Æternus Noctem
by Remii
Summary: Darkness filled his heart, no breath of life could take away his pain. His sole thought was the downfall of Voldemort, but at what cost? [Implied, not decided, slash]
1. Descent Into the Maelstrom

Warnings: Harry Potter and Crew belong to J.K. Rowling, I make no profit  
Some of the writing may come out disfigured, I apologize  
I do not own the poem at the end, or Shakespeare's writing  
Also, I do not have a Beta Reader for this, so I'm sorry if there are mistakes. If you find some, please tell me in your review.  
  
Chapter One: Descent Into the Maelstrom  
  
Æternus Noctem  
  
Harry traversed Diagon Alley, venturing back and forth through the many stores for his school supplies. Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry actually sent him a letter informing him that he was welcomed back to the school for his seventh and last year; signed personally by Minerva McGonagall. He knew exactly why they asked him back...  
  
Dumbledore...  
  
Harry gritted his teeth. The man couldn't stand living without knowing all the answers, could he? He was a bloody know it all, just like Hermione. Harry's face softened from it's grimace with his thoughts on Hermione. He tried so many times. And it was still the same. Warmth flooded his veins when he thought of Hermione and Ron. He had tried so hard to hate them like the rest. And he did in the twisted sense that he hated his ever-present love for them...but he couldn't bring himself to hate them. Never them.  
  
It was easy to hate himself. Oh yes. So easy to hate this malformed freak. Maybe when Hermione and Ron saw him at Hogwarts they would hate him. Harry let out a hysterical laugh. Wouldn't that make life easier?  
  
Those few people walking in Diagon Alley on the ebony rain-filled day paused to look curiously at the man donned from head to toe in a black cape, his eyes conveniently shadowed by his hood, yet allowing him a little sight in the tumultuous rain.  
  
His shopping done, Harry ambulated with the utmost stealth he possessed to his desired location. Upon reaching Nocturne Alley, Harry let out a mental sigh of relief. The shadows of Nocturne Alley concealed those who desired it perfectly. Here, here in the dank mildew of rotting flesh, among the lepers, whores, thieves, the deformity of mankind, here he was safe. No old man could save him here. If it was willed, here he could die in an instant by the forever shifting thoughts of the crazy man peeling off his clothes to run from his body, or the deranged woman with hundreds of daggers in her pockets continuously hacking off her hair until her blunt knife felt hair no more and instead sought skin.  
  
Here in the Realm of Shadows itself, Harry prayed for freedom. His countenance dared all around him to stare, attack, kill. Blood so thick in quantity permeated the air. Here the Blood Lust was strong. Here he could finally be given his sought-after sanctuary from the world around him.  
  
But the shadows teased him mercilessly, murmuring their need of his existence marred on their hands, yet they had no strength to possess that which they desired most.  
  
Pathetic, thought Harry. It was disgustingly pathetic the way they crawled about, their minds contained within the depths of their minds. But who was the hypocrite to smote his brothers?  
  
Harry let out another insane chuckle. Who was he to judge when he was trapped in his mind, the brink of insanity feet away from the line he tread?  
  
"My brethren," he softly called out, the rain carrying his words along the dank streets, between the naked feet of the dead and into the waterfalls of the drains. "Oh my brethren."  
  
"Ssseek those you wissh to sseek, yet cursse not those who are the sssame."  
  
Harry stopped walking, his words washed away in the rain, the minds he enchanted safe from demise. A Parseltongue? Another, his same.  
  
"I would not seek to ensnare you, Eadem [1]." Harry closed his eyes to find out where his converser was.  
  
"In Mortissss and Vitae[2] is where I'm bound againssst my will, Differo [3]."  
  
"Differo you call me, yet we are much alike, you and I."  
  
"Yet we aren't, are we not? Mindssss and bodiesss are vasstly different if even a copy from the first.."  
  
Harry ignored the last comment in search of the store Mortis and Vitae. He easily spotted it, regardless of the heaven's tears boring upon his shoulders, his cloak firmly latched to his body.  
  
"Ssssso close, Differo. Sso closse. Mortiss has found another, hasss he not? Wasssste not time for ssimple pleasssuresss. Differo...my eadem..."  
  
Inside the store was a gallery of living and dead tokens alike. Entrails lined the walls and vultures hung suspended from the ceiling, their life's force dripping out of them and onto the floor, coating it in a gory red paste. Hands held the cabinets aloft instead of wood, and they twitched under the weight of their burden, their feet for sale in the glass displays. Harry had bought all his thousands of dollars of potion supplies here.  
  
His snake was along the back wall, caged in. Eadem was indeed less that 10 feet long, albeit, he stretched to about 9 feet long. He was a beautiful sleek black with flashes of silver and green adjourning his scales, seen only when he moved his body subtly in the light. His eyes bore into Harry, not begging but commanding his purchase and salvation from his narrow cage. Those eyes of a deep red, feeling Harry's thoughts that ran through his head as Harry could feel Eadem's. Those eyes of his. The same. His Eadem.  
  
"I will have you."  
  
"Yesss. Yess yoursssss."  
  
Harry flicked his wrist, the cage fulminating with the power behind the simple spell. Eadem moved sinuously around the carnage of his once- dwelling to crawl up Harry's leg and wrap himself around Harry's torso, neck, and finally coming out from behind Harry's cloak to dangle against his chest. Harry casually made his way to the front of the store, not avoiding the ponds of blood, causing the slime on his shoe to flake off and hiss and bubble as it mixed with the blood.  
  
The store owner, Mortis, leaned against his desk as if with the age of death closing upon him on his shoulders. He spoke in harsh whispers with a platinum-blond long-haired man who's presence radiated wealth. Lucius Malfoy sought the snake in the back for his personal collection, fearing never seeing another of it's kind.  
  
Harry collected 4 Galleons from his pocket and placed them on the counter in front of Mortis and Lucius. The man set his gaze on Harry before realizing who his prized customer was.  
  
"I will have him."  
  
Mortis needn't ask who as Eadem snapped his jaw, promulgating his presence.  
  
Lucius looked upon the fully cloaked boy with disdain. He raised his eyes to up the price for the snake and caught Mortis nodding his head, accepting the 4 Galleons for the snake. Harry walked out the door, listening to the ranting of Malfoy Sr.  
  
"My Differo..."  
  
Harry lifted Eadem's head to look lovingly into his eyes. He kissed Eadem, uttering,  
  
"....diutius differo...iturus eadem...aequus ui domus iam nos...[4]" A mist parted his lips enveloping himself and Eadem in an atramentous haze. It stayed only momentarily before parting in halves, entering into Eadem and Harry's mouths and passing through their bodies.  
  
"Now, my Alius Pars [5]....now, my love, we go home." Harry laid Eadem on his shoulder with the utmost care he could manage. For the first time in his life, he felt completed.  
  
  
  
Harry shivered in his walk, clutching his cloak tighter around himself. Reaching to his shoulder, his fingers wrapped around Eadem, confirming Eadem's presence upon his side. He needed Eadem with him right now.  
  
"Potter?" Eadem sibilantly hissed out, tasting the name on his tongue. "What isss 'Potter', Differo?"  
  
  
  
"'Potter'?'" Eadem persisted. Something was hurting his Differo. Something that sent shivers to wrack his frame. The feeling, or memory, as Eadem came to determine his Differ? was recalling, was something horrid indeed.  
  
  
  
"Differo!" Eadem all but cried out. He could feel Differ? going numb. Feeling a ferocious present grip him, he lunged at Harry and bit his neck, penetrating his vein and injecting his poison. Now Differo would stop trembling. Stop his whimpering.  
  
Harry started and looked to Eadem. "Eadem, my Alius Pars, what have..." Harry swayed on his feet like a Foucault Pendulum, swinging in a constant direction to show the rotation of the Earth. "Poison, my love? Poison.."  
  
"You will not die, Differo, my own. I would not bite the hand that feedsss me." Eadem undulated down Harry's body. He rested on Harry's leg, then bit into his Femoral Artery, injecting the counter-poison. Confident that it would spread through Harry's body, he climbed back up to rest once again on Harry's shoulder.  
  
Harry looked towards Eadem through his fuzzy eyesight. "This was the most unkindest cut of all..." he whispered.  
  
Eadem looked almost aporectically at Harry. "You will not die, I do not underssstand. Explain 'Potter' to me?"  
  
"Potter," Harry whispered through clenched teeth, willing the memories away. "Potter is me."  
  
"I am Potter, then?" Eadem replied, confused in his Differo's explanation.  
  
"No. I am Harry Potter. I am known to others with that name, not Differo. You have named me Differo, love." Harry rested against the side of a building, close now to the main street of Diagon Alley.  
  
The rain had drifted off to darken another town with it's wrath, leaving behind only its soggy puddles as a remembrance to all who came after its demise. Harry graciously stepped into the mass of people who embraced the sun which poured from the sky, attempting to erase all traces of the horrendous storm. People who couldn't stand to walk down the street. People who feared the rain. Harry gazed contemptuously at the lot of them. They were almost as bad as those he left behind...His brethren...  
  
"My Differo. Harry Potter. It ssoundsss familiar, Parssss." Eadem hissed as a boy ran past, his cares forgotten as he joined his friends in splashing puddles. "Sssstupid humansssss. You are not them, Parssss. No. Differo isss not human...isss he?"  
  
"No. I am not. Not anymore." Harry walked into a small out of the way Café. He was suddenly thirsty.  
  
"What happened to Differo? You have the body of a human. Ssssmell like a human. Ssssmart like those not of human nature. What isss under your cloak? May I look?" Eadem didn't wait for Harry to confirm his question before he slinked under Harry's cloak, and in turn his shirt. He made a trail of examining his chest, arms, and then his back. Seconds later Eadem appeared back at Harry's shoulder, his lower body wrapping around Harry's torso. "Mosssst definitely not human back there."  
  
"Not anymore. I was...changed recently. I'm no longer human, Eadem, love. You do not shiver out of fear, do you my Pars?" Harry cupped Eadem's face in his hand and brought it in front of his eyes.  
  
"Never fear you, Parsssss. Never my Differo. Eadem underssstandssss. He seesssss Differo's mind. Yessss." Eadem left Harry's shoulder and ventured to the table Harry took a seat at, his body never fully leaving Harry's as his tail enclosed around Harry's arm.  
  
"I would wish that you never have to fear me, Eadem. "  
  
"Voldemort." Eadem hissed, glancing at Harry's reaction. There was none, and Harry looked blankly into the cup of tea he had ordered. Eadem examined the world outside his abode. It was everything he had hoped to see, and dreaded at the same time. There were people milling about everywhere. Short ones, tall ones, fat ones, slim ones. All sorts of eccentric clothing to be found. But no one dressed like his Differo did. "You live in this, and dwell in lover's eyes."  
  
"Oh, Alius Pars, you do not understand the names you utter. Why speak Voldemort?" As hopeless as his words chosen were, Harry spoke them with his voice devoid of emotion, almost hinted with hate.  
  
"Sssspeak Voldemort. Ssspeak Potter. If Voldemort wassss here, he would laugh ssssaying. 'Sssso great a fear of my name was amongssst them sspread, and I rejoiced.' Never fear him, Parsssss. Never fear yourssself. Cry 'havoc' and let sssslip the dogssss of war." Eadem slipped back into Harry's cloak, hiding himself from Harry and the world. Not more was spoken of him, the conversation ended.  
  
Cry havoc and let slip the dogs of war? Dogs of war. Dogs. Harry sipped his tea, grimacing as he tried to wash down the cold drink. With a simple blink of his eye, the tea was hot again, heating Harry's hands as he cradled the warm mug between them. He was cold. Always cold. He didn't feel the rain pelting down upon him, dampening and sodding his clothes, to anyone else would have been unbearable. Yet, he embraced the warm wind that curled around his body with open arms. He could see the millions of colors trapped in the breeze, feel them twist around his face and smell the scent carried his way. He could see so many new things. Need he not his glasses anymore. They were broken and buried with his spirit in the ashes of his once-standing house in Surrey. Voldemort had changed everything...again..  
  
He sighed. How much did Eadem see? What an amazing creature he happened upon. What a blessing to his crumbling pillar of strength he called his soul. His prayer answered in the games that the Gods played on him. They acknowledged one of his requests finally, choosing to throw his others away into the crashing waves of the sea. Eadem was his eidolon traveling in the back of his mind. Out of reach, tempting him, but never coming to him or leaving. Only a shadow, specter, phantom, the wraith of his demise. And here he was, saving him. Crafty old man.  
  
His tea done, Harry stood, throwing a few Knuts onto the table in payment. He would come here again. It was nice...in a homely way. Home...  
  
  
  
Not know. Not if he could help it. He would not give in to the temptation of being lost in the surf of his mind's ocean.  
  
Eadem made no movements to come above the shelter he found being hidden in Harry's cloak. It was dank, damp, and dark, all high on his preferences. Instead he spoke to Harry's with his voice muffled by the fabric.  
  
"Differo. Assss much asss we love our new ssssurroundingss. You will catch cold if you sssstay in thiss cloak, sssssseeping with water. Human or not, you will be sssick."  
  
Harry looked to where his breast pocket would be. If he could feel the cold or not, it would be best not to arrive at school the next day sick. He would never go to Madam Pomfry. She would surely require that he take off his shirt so she may go through the normal procedure of listening to his heart beat. He could imagine the horror etched on her face when he saw him his all his glory. His new body.  
  
No, it would be best to heat himself and not catch cold. He laid his right hand upon his chest, feeling the soaking wet cloak beneath his fingers. He needed to be careful and not catch his cloak on fire, though he doubt that would happen, as wet as it was. Softly he spoke.  
  
"Assiccare.." Thankfully the little amount of magic he used was enough to dry the whole cloak, his clothing underneath, and make Eadem jump out from inside, hissing in annoyance.  
  
"Ssssstupid ssssauna.... "  
  
Harry smiled and chuckled at his annoyed Alius Pars. His smile genuine, his laugh light without an insane twinge. Both would have sent the storm away and dried the puddles of water if he had dared smile for real before. It had been so long since he truly smiled. Not since Voldemort...  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
"You mussssn't. Not now. Sssso many around you. Feel them, Parssss. Feel them."  
  
Harry concentrated on the presences around him. He closed his eyes, feeling the bodies moving around him. Was that...yes. The black behind his eyelids lit up to hundreds of white lights. "The people..." Harry said in awe. He could see their magic in his mind, all around him. He gently reached out his arm, and ran his finger along the side of one light floating by his right arm. It moved closer to him, brightening it's brilliance. Harry extended his left arm to another light and in turn touched that. More lights moved towards his open arms, glowing radiantly as they neared him.  
  
"Open your eyesss, my Differo. Open and look upon your people..." Eadem whispered somewhere close to his left ear.  
  
Obeying his command, Harry opened his eyes and blinked at the beaming sun in his eyes. All the occupants of Diagon Alley had stopped in their walking, chatting, and shopping. At least 20 of them had circled around Harry, in awe of the soft blue light surrounding him. Those he had touched in his mind glowed with a faint yellow, and where kneeling at his feet. Everyone was concentrated on the power they actually felt in Harry's direction. They were stuck in wonder, feeling worship rise up in them at the black figure that stood in the center of Diagon Alley. However sinister he looked, he had touched them all subconsciously with love and curiosity, even admiration of the beings that he lived among.  
  
One, however, slunk back in the shadows. Curious it was indeed. He had been confused when his wife stopped suddenly in the midst of walking home from a day of shopping and turned around fiercely. She had gasped in surprise, then wrapped her arms around herself. A smile, true and indubitable, graced Narcissa Malfoy's face for the first time since she gave birth to her son.  
  
Draco looked confusedly between his mother, who looked like she was going to cry from pure happiness, and his father, who hid himself in the shadows. Then Draco felt it, a distinct pull in the pit of his stomach, stretching through his body. He saw Blaise Zabini, standing only feet away from him, look towards Draco with a question on his face. He felt it too. Had everyone felt it? Blaise walked towards Draco, and away from the source of power with an obvious strain.  
  
"Did you feel that?" Blaise asked Draco, who was looking at everyone around him. "It was, like something wonderful come true. Something that completed me. It was...wonderful."  
  
"I did. I felt it. I..." Draco trailed off. His mother had just let a tear roll down her cheek. This wasn't really happening, was it? The very essence of his mother had gathered behind her eyes and revealed itself to the world. It was a phenomenon, a miracle that never should have happened, yet did. A birth of a new day, sparkling and pure. His mother tried to contain herself, but she sniffed and then choked as she tried desperately, and failed to hold her tears at bay. Crystals fell from her red eyes, which sparkled with joy. She was crying a river of the feelings that gathered inside her, coursing through her veins.  
  
And she laughed. A beautiful musical note, echoing through the quiet of Diagon Alley, bouncing of the people around her and vibrating off the walls, windows, closed doors, and finally floating to the sky. The Lady of Malfoy Manor couldn't have been happier in all her 36 years of life. Never had she experienced such a feeling. Such delight in life itself.  
  
Slowly, almost unnoticeable, the feeling started to leave her. When she noticed the presence cease to flow through her veins, she cried out in despair. It couldn't leave! Not yet! Tears of her impending distraught coursed down her face, ruining her make up.  
  
Lucius looked to his wife and felt his heart clench. Narcissa was actually smiling..and laughing...crying in grief...but...she was crying. For years she had kept her face a blank slate, never opening up to anyone. Not even herself. And here she was, midst hundreds of persons, pouring her heart out for anyone to see. He half ran, half walked to her side, wrapping his arms around her. He pulled out his handkerchief and dabbed her face, soaking up her salty tears. He whispered affections into her ear, trying to dispel her tears, her anguish, her sorrow.  
  
Eadem poured his fondness into Harry. He had just stopped his ghosts from taking control of him, and touched the hearts of those around him. His Differ? was an amazing creature, capable of reaching out to those around him. It was no small thing that he was the boy wonder. The Salvation of them all. He was even connected to them!   
  
"Come, Differo. We must away now. You will kill yourssself if you continue to keep yoursself tied to them. Sssssee how they feed off your presssence in them? Try not to let them take it. Ssssshare. Ssshare their'sss with yourssss..."  
  
Harry pulled from his connecting with the people in Diagon Alley. How had he done that? He had entered into every person in Diagon Alley! It was..unbelievable...  
  
"Sssssilly creature. Not Diagon Alley only. Hoswartsssss....every witch within a thoussssand milesss of you....ssssilly Parssssss. You are ssso sssstrong. Sssso sssstrong..."  
  
Harry stumbled back a step. There must have been millions of witches and wizards he had just connected with. Had stopped in the middle of their daily routines. He had to get out. Now. Summoning up the strength he had reserved, he ran from Diagon Alley, running the speed of a bullet between the people coming out of their daze, remembering him, but not knowing.  
  
Lucius watched him leave. Curious indeed. He wondered who the boy was. The boy that had bought his snake. For such a pathetic price. He turned to Draco who was staring at Harry, or rather the trail of dust that rose beneath Harry's feet. Draco knew who it was...he felt it in him....the presence wasn't something new...he had felt it before. Several times. And so had Blaise. Noticing his father's piercing gaze upon his back, Draco bid Blaise goodbye, and walked to his parents. His mother had stopped crying, and was now slumped against Lucius, staring ahead into nothing. Her thoughts cascading around in her mind. All she knew is that she had to find that feeling again.  
  
Harry slowed to a halt in front of a desultory inn at the end of Diagon Alley. Few sent questioning glances towards his tenebrous figure. He once again mentally thanked the aged wizard for his store or concealment cloaks. Aurors would have swarmed him countless times if people had seen the new him. If they even recognized their 'savior'. But it was so uncomfortable to keep himself trapped. He felt cramped, restricted.  
  
The inn was quite nice, considering it couldn't have much usage, being too out of the way. However, it served his intentions of a room and board perfectly. The inside was almost completely bare, consisting of a few pieces of furniture scattered about, all fake mahogany, and a rug under the lone tea table. The owner was a lady, seemingly young in age, but covered in grime from no cleaning. Her slouched stance gave sight to a crooked back and a hooked nose. A sneer was present on her face upon noticing a customer, but the benefit of money made her think twice, smiling to reveal her decaying teeth.  
  
Harry ignored the gruesome sight before him having seen worse elsewhere. He fished out a few Knuts and two Galleons, holding them in the palm of his hand, catching the owner's eyes with his gold.  
  
"I require your best room. Tea served immediately and no visits. Anytime." Harry dropped the money onto the counter, it shining in the dark gloom of the in, the solitary candle illuminating it.  
  
The lone witch scooped up the money hastily, fearing Harry would snatch it back again, diminishing her hope in ever leaving the inn. she was trapped, her father hating her so left her in the cumbersome situation of no money and a destitute inn to run. She spited men, and if the rich wanderer before her had anymore money, she doubted anyone would miss him if he never returned to whence he left from. To her fortunate being, she heart the soft rapture of lucre tapping against itself, and smiled maniacally. Soon she would be leaving this place. Soon her patron would have his tea.  
  
"Sssshe ssseeks to leave thissssss place, Differo. Be weary, my Parsssss." Eadem blended against Harry's cloak, hindering the witch's sight of him. This would serve him well, carefully masking his presence beside Harry, the witch ignorant in her money lust.  
  
She lead them to the last room in the hall, secluded and disguised by magic. Harry looked about the hall. It was absurdly narrow, room enough for two men to walk side by side, shoulders brushing in their sway. he heard Eadem's whispered caution, yet made no sign of understanding. The less the witch new about, the easier it would be to sleep tonight without waiting for her silent shadow to stalk him. As much as he encouraged it, his death would not be dealt by her hand. Timidly, albeit with curiosity, he probed the confines of her mind and instantly smiled in relief. She was delusional: a money hawk. Her keen eyes blind to the world except for the riches which she sought to spite the ghosts of her past. Her nascency brought upon the downfall and doom of her family, forever casting them from the rollick of Wizard Society, to the antediluvian inn to which she currently resided. She won her family's hatred with the piercing shriek of being born, their eyes forever blinking at her with scorn and malice.  
  
But not was she a frail child to cry when whipped. She grew with the harsh reality of pain swirling before her eyes, concealing the love and wondrous world around her, forever leaving her tainted and hostile. To each her siblings she presented the gift of death to their sleeping minds, ridding herself of the ones that ailed her so. But hers was not to be a life of happiness. The phantoms of her murdered family haunted her waking hours so, plaguing her dreams, snatching from her what sanity she held onto with all her might. Left behind was the hallow carcass of a beaten body, so twisted with the never ending on slot of abuses. Left behind was the sole coherent thought to leave the house and wraiths which trapped her. Left behind was the She-Devil who killed so many for the prize of lucre their belongings carried.  
  
"Your room." It was croaked in a harsh whisper. So long since she conversed with anyone besides her broken reflection in the mirror.  
  
"It will do. My tea; I require it not. Leave me." Harry watched the woman go. Mind reading was not something he was about to come familiar with. Though, he knew that she could break through the simple barrier of magic wards to kill her victims in the similar fashion of those she shared a common blood with.  
  
Harry carefully took Eadem from his neck and laid him on the decisively well-preserved bed. His cloak was too much to bare, the burden a weight taking it's toll. One last glance around the room and a strong sealing spell gave him the small piece of mind that he wouldn't be seen. he pulled his hood back, finally revealing the face that once-held glasses of an almost-blind boy, and the scar of his death gone wrong. No more were the glasses needed. His eyes, once a glorious emerald green like that of his mother glowed a dull red. His scar, so much his legend and self, resided on his enemy, his forehead unmarred and smooth to perfection. he had grown older in the mishaps of his summer, a stout 16 year old boy, forced into the body of a man too soon. his face had lost all its round qualities feasting at Hogwarts served him, but was now long and hallow. He was deathly pale, a grand contrast to his almost black hair grown longer and more untidy without much care except for the simple rubber band that held it tighter away from his face. He was no longer Harry Potter, generally happy boy with friends and a home in Hogwarts. he was now Harry Potter, Differo, out casted by the ones he trusted most, grown too wise too soon.  
  
Lastly, Harry pride his cloak from his back heedful of it sticking to his back as a bandage to a healing wound, too quick would tear. With his cloak finally off, Harry all but collapsed on to his bed. Hesitantly, he raised his hands to his line of vision. They were the last to go unmarked on his upper body. Once, while spending the summer with Hermione, they had stole away one afternoon to see a movie of their choice. Thought neither had seen the first, they watched the sequel to the movie X-Men. It was fun, and they enjoyed watching a movie about people who were treated as they would be, had the Wizarding World merged with that of the Muggle one.  
  
And now Harry sat on his bed, his body covered in tattoos. They all connected with one another, flowing about his arms onto his shoulders, down his chest and up to his neck. Only his left cheek contained part of the tattoo, moving then to his ear and down his back. Every line was in perfect symmetry with another on the opposite side of his body, and they all started on the skin between his two wings.  
  
His tattoos, like those of the burns on the body of the creature in the movie he saw, represented his sins. Too powerful and untamed had his fury been the night Voldemort attacked his home in Surrey. Too naive was he to understand the spell. And too hurt was he by the betrayal of his godfather and Remus to think clearly. The tattoos. his hours of pain upon etching into his flesh and soul forever remind himself with the marks of those he killed that night. His sins ne'er ever be forgotten, for they are present everywhere he goes, the pain of their making never fully gone, a remembrance of the pain he caused for others. They were black, no color fitting so well into the persona of his self-demoralization, as the absence of color itself. No color blending so greatly with his ashen skin, no color blending so perfectly as to look as if it were bleeding into his tattoos.  
  
Regardless of his hate for his newest appendage, they were beautiful, even to one such as himself who blamed them for all. He was not supposed to have wings. They were not supposed to happen. No one in all the decades of the Wizarding World had successfully obtained wings capable of flight on their being. Many had taken wings from birds and magicked them onto their backs, but never into their bodies with bone reconstruction for flight. He was the only on who never tried and hated them with a passion. The horrible beautiful wings granted him nothing but the loss of his family.  
  
"They are beautiful, Differo. I sssssee you. Know you. Feel you. Parssss hatesssss, yet you are a lover, Borrow Cupid'ssssss wingssss. They sssserve you, no? Hate encompasssesssss you. Not you, Differo. Never you. You mussssst not give in and loossssse your love. All thesse are ssssaved if you will fly away...."  
  
"I can't . Not yet, my love. If I fly now, I fly away from life. Fly away." Harry walked to the window, gazing out into the dark musk of swirling fog. His eyes could see the beaten dog cantering the ground of the deserted Diagon Alley, forging for it's dinner that it's owner never provided. He closed his eyes and let out a shaky breath, pressing his forehead against the cold windowpane. His scar may not be present, but he still felt it boring into his head. "Fly away," he whispered. "Fly away..."  
  
"Come. Ssssleep. You lack all the naturess, sssssssleep."  
  
Harry looked to Eadem who curled himself under the covers. Was his advice naught for Harry but for himself? He held his fond chuckle at bay. So much the snake, was Eadem. But sleep was not yet for him. He felt awake, alive. Sickening as the thought was, he wished nothing more than to reach out to those he did earlier, cradle them in his arms. His children. Harry laughed a little. Who was he to call them children, when they had many years on him? He cast one last look at the fogged window, and out into the night, deciding he must sleep sooner or later.  
  
"For in that sleep of death, what dreams may come?"  
  
It was not yet midnight when Harry felt Eadem's tongue whip his cheek, hear his hissing. Instantly he was awake, alert. "What is it, Eadem?"  
  
"Sssssshe comess. Ssshe comess now for my Parsssssss."  
  
Harry heard the rattle of the door knob in her attempt to open it. It did not budge, and he heard distinctly the shriek of displeasure spring forth from her mouth. He hadn't thought to put a very strong warding spell up, believing her not to be able to open it. She did, in fact, seem to have grown in power, her rage doubling the hate which she used to burst the door open. Once she saw that the room's occupants where not sleeping, she screamed into the dead night and flung herself at the doorway. Harry's shields held, but temporarily. He cursed himself for not applying the strongest ones he had, for being too sure she could do no harm. With one final screech like that of a dying animal singing it's woe, she broke through his magic.  
  
Harry jumped to attention, his wings hidden in the dark of the room. With one hand he held her at bay, but she struggled against his hold. He brought his second hand to grasp her in place, but yet she evaded capture. She was powerful, not so much as he, but enough to make him grit his teeth and lash out with a strike of a fire whip. Her shrill voice cried out into the night as his fire connected with her skin, leaving a burnt line across her arm. Faltering for one second, Harry loosened his grip on her, and she broke free. Her hand raised above her head, she held a glowing dagger, encrusted with dried blood, its writing dulled with the killings it's committed, and ran at him. He quickly threw up a protective bubble and she crashed into it, her dagger mearly bouncing off. Not to be overtaken, she stood and threw herself at him again, her squeal penetrating his bubble. Her cry was that of a banshee and Harry momentarily brought his hands to his ears to block the call, protection forgotten.  
  
In that instant of calm before he could react, she rose against him, clawing at his chest. Harry arched at the pain, his wings rising to spread out above him, catching in the moonlight. At once she froze and threw herself to the floor. Tremors wracked her body and tears spilled from her eyes, her own blood leaking from her body as her sign of remorse. Gently, with caution, Harry lowered himself to his knees in front of her and reached out his left arm. She flinched away from him, but never brought her face up to look into his eyes. Gathering courage with her wretched form and quivering mass, Harry lifted her chin to make her look into his eyes. At once her eyes rolled to the back of her head and she screamed in pain and grief.  
  
Harry wrapped his arms around the tearful girl, gathering her into a hug of comfort, understanding her misery and suffering.  
  
"Forgive me, forgive me," she wept, rocking back and forth. Her hands tightened behind his back, shaking as they grazed the fluffy small feathers at his wing joints. "My angel..Oh my angel...you've finally come...Forgive me.."  
  
Harry once pulled away from her suddenly small frame, his gaze piercing her eyes. Slowly, he leaned down and rubbed his cheek against hers, catching her tears with his tongue. "All is forgiven," he whispered into her ear. Keeping his eye's firmly locked with her's, he tenderly kissed her lips.  
  
Her eyes widened, light encircling her body. Quickly, in the moment his lips touched hers, all the dirt of ages peeled from her body, opening her white skin to be tickled by the slight breeze of an open window and kissed by the light of the moon. The grease of her hair stripped away, her straight hair in knots undone, curling to a healthy shine. And finally, her clothing slid off her body, her back straightening from it's bend, her nose growing smaller until it was unhooked. Her once brown eyes turned a bright blue, sparkling with salty tears instead of the blood of her inside wounds.  
  
She snuggled into Harry's embrace, smiling with her rosy lips, her teeth pearls in the ocean. Her breath, once pants of effort, slowed to calm intakes of air, fresh for the first time in her many years. She was young again. No more than a child first entering her teen years, the physical abuse of the family not yet started. She reached to her neck, a crystal pendant dangling on a silver chain. With quivering fingers, so graceful with youth, she undid the necklace, opening Harry's strong hand and placing it within.  
  
"Please.." she begged, her voice harmonious and sweet, not yet dried and dead.  
  
Harry knew what she asked of him. Knew how hard it would be, yet couldn't deny her. She who had lived through so much, and asking only one simple thing from him. With a difficulty Harry never knew before, he clenched his hand around the crystal, shattering it in his palm, a lone tear leaking down his cheek.  
  
In his arms, with her head on his heart, the girl took in one last shuddering breath before she closed her eyes in death. Harry tightened his hold on her deceased body, hoping that for once, she would have the peace she so deserved and sought after. Her body, still pale with rebirth, waned until there was a ghostly outline of where she once lay, the breeze of wind finally scattering the few lights of where her eyes had been, freeing her forever from this plane of existence.  
  
Harry stood on shaky legs, Eadem coming to rest against his heart, no words spoken in the quiet of the night. For none needed to be said. Harry quietly gathered his belongings, fearing that if he broke the soundless night, he would break the spell of peace so newly attained. Quickly he left the inn, he could no longer stay in such a sad place. Standing a few hundred feet in front of the entrance, he raised his right hand towards the building and whispered a spell that was carried by the wind to torch the building until nothing remained. Silently he drew his hood around his face and turned away from the fiery glow of the inn. The spell lasted seconds only, the girl's home no more, and the wind picked up to scatter those few ashes left over, a soft happy laughter of a child's echoing in it's dance.  
  
[1] Eadem- "Same" [2] Mortis and Vitae - "Death and Life" [3] Differo - "Different, Differ" [4] ....di?tius differ?...?t?rus eadem...aequus ?i domus iam n?s.. "Once different, now same, two hearts in one home." [5] Alius Pars: "Other part, half"  
  
Descent Into the Maelstrom  
  
Deeper into darkness, enamored of the night  
  
I've come to love the pain of never being right.  
  
Sorrow is truly sweet, when embraced with open arms  
  
Absolve yourself of sin, my friend, and let yourself be harmed.  
  
Don't turn away your face from me, I will not be denied;  
  
There's a beast inside you man, drown in the blood-dimmed tide!  
  
Your petty acts of kindness only make your dull life worse  
  
Desecrate your holy place, relish in God's curse!  
  
Betray the ones you love! There is no sweeter pain  
  
Bathe in blood until you find your heart forever stained.  
  
There is no rescue for you now, you've burned the one way home  
  
You're free from all, and now you have to deal with -- you -- alone. 


	2. A Sin Soaked Angel Sipped of Color

Warnings:~Its dark, so if you're looking for anything fluffy, you won't find it here. I also have some special writting on this chapter, such as an "o" with a accent on the top, and different fonts for different speaking....so If it gets screwed up, my appologies.  
  
~Harry Potter and crew belong to J.K. Rowling. I make no profit from my writings.  
  
~And Shakespeare is his own man!! I just borrowed some quotes!  
  
~ I don't own the poem in this story, and I'm doing all I can to find out the original author, because they didn't sign it on the site it's posted on.  
  
~Oh yea..erm..its pretty damn long..so..if you're not up to reading a 10 page chapter..skip this..  
  
~~This fic will be updated once every week [I hope]. And I'd really appreciate it if you reviewed my story!~~  
  
Josiepaul: I'm glad you like and think it's excellent! More on it's way!  
  
ProfessorZ: -sigh of relief- Formatting is perfect! Or not perfect, but good enough? I think I'll be posting a link to the next chapters on the group, but most definitly posting them here too. Thanks for reviewing!!  
  
Zatara: So much more. Ok..well..only 2 more chapters. ^^;; Number 4 isnt even complete yet, but it's getting there. School's turning out to be a bitch..but I think I'll make some room. Be expecting a chapter a week.  
  
Kimi-sama: Mmmm did you get one of those chills that runs along your spine, with the goosbumps? I love those! I've never considered it beautiful or haunting...maybe because this is my first decent story..but I'm so happy that you think I have talent and like it!!  
  
Cynic: Whee. Odd is good. Sometimes. This is a good odd, right? Hehe. I didn't know I was going beyond the normal Harry Potter DarkFic. I've never really read any, I'll admit. I wasn't a fan of DarkFics, and I doubt I'll ever be. [that doesnt make much sense ^^;;] I just got this idea, and my own little dark side got the better of me. Elaborate a bit on what you mean pertaining to Draco's angst? He'll have a big role, [duh], but nothing as mind bogglingly dark and angsty as Harry. I dont see myself writing a part of the story around Draco's sad feelings..[which I dont think I'll make any of] but if you have any recommendations and requests, I'd love to know and try to write them!  
  
namwolf: And my English teachers told me I couldn't write poetry! That means so much to me, saying I have a poetic flow to my writing! I really wanted everyone to be captured in the mood, live in it, not just read it from behind a glass. More will come!  
  
Juno Skywalker: Thanks! I'm writing the next parts, so things should be set for the next 2 weeks or so. Grr to the list mucking up my story! But thanks for venturing out to read it on FF.Net, instead of just reading it on the group and dealing with the mishappenings there. ^_^  
  
radical edward9: Of course there's more! Two more chapters to be exact! And one posted every week. I'd hate to go and post them all at once, then take forever to get the next out ^^;;....-cough cough, M.o.a.T.M, cough cough-   
  
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Chapter Two: A Sin Soaked Angel Sipped of Color  
  
Æternus Noctem  
  
It was time. He knew. But he couldn't bring himself to board the train that would inevitably bring him to Hogwarts, ensnaring him in the castle, keeping him under the old man's view at all times. Well, if he were to comply and board the train, never would he relinquish his humanity to the decrepit sneaky bastard. Harry would get the better of him.  
  
The train whistle blew, small puffs of smoke escaping from the whistle to inform all around that the train was to leave soon, regardless if everyone had entered or not. Harry finally left the shadows and ran as quick as he could to the other side. Hopefully at the end of the train there would be one blessed compartment not occupied by his classmates. Harry spat on the steps to the train door. Classmates. It sounded fake. Horribly fake, as if the world wasn't true, just a movie playing before his eyes. A dream. Why was he here? He shouldn't be here. Harry turned to leave through the door he came from. However, he was trapped in, the door already closed, laughing at Harry. Harry strode to the door, fully intending on wrenching it open and jumping out.  
  
"It's locked, you know. It won't open since the train has started moving." The words were spoke with cool indifference, no ideal threat present behind them. "So you're stuck here. No one to help you."  
  
Harry could see the wand pointed at his back. Eadem hissed silently, leaving Harry's body through way of pants. The hall at the end of the train was dark, the lights flickering on and off above. It was a perfect attack. And the one threatening his Pars would be none the wiser.  
  
"Stop." Eadem halted his movements, his fang's inches away from entering into the skin of his target. Harry had yet to turn around, but he understood fully Eadem's intentions.  
  
"Stop what? From attacking? I think not. Who are you here under? Voldemort? You Death Eater skum. You should never have come aboard this train." Draco Malfoy stepped into the dim light of the hall. His father never mentioned an attack on the Hogwarts Train. But then again his father had stopped confiding in him what little information he had already. It could always be a rebel Death Eater, fully intending on capturing Harry Potter and returning him to Voldemort with the rest nonethewiser. The prize his own, basking in Voldemort's pleasure with him. Disgusting.  
  
"Turn around slowly now. Hands where I can see them. You won't be capturing Harry Potter this day." Draco smirked, the first syllables of the binding spell forming on his lips. He wasn't however, expecting the almost giddy laughter to escape from the Death Eater. Not seeing what was so funny, he raised his wand.  
  
"Going to capture me yourself, are you, Malfoy?" Harry turned to face Draco, moving his hood from his face and stepping into the light.  
  
Malfoy get out a startled gasp at seeing Harry Potter. He felt revolted almost. Harry Potter had left the Light and joined forces with the Dark? It was betrayal, the utmost dishonorable act anyone could commit against another. Especially all the people that looked to Harry, their lives, their hopes, their wished, all balanced on the perilous tip of the blade Harry wielded. And he was just going to throw it away? How pitiful.  
  
"You sicken me Potter. Who convinced you to join up with them? Or was it out of your own choice? Traitorous bastard." Draco flew towards Harry, a strong binding spell leaving the tip of his wand as he jumped suddenly to the left, avoiding and spells that Harry might have released himself. But as Draco's feet landed firmly on the ground, he saw that Harry had stayed in his position, not moving once, not even to draw his wand to defend himself. There was, however, a ghost of a smile grazing his lips.  
  
Harry dismissed the binding spell with a bit more difficulty then he would have expected. It seemed as though he wasn't the only one whose power rose tremendously over the summer. It also made him shake his head in sympathy. Draco evidently was forced to learn such a dark spell, meant to bind the captured to himself, his soul trapped in the attacker's wand until released; by his father. It was an old spell, not to be found in simple school reading. He finally lifted his eyes from the door to look at Draco, who he felt rather than saw jump to his right in dodging any spells sent his way. Tricky. Draco had obviously also improved in dueling. But he was still the same arrogant prick Harry left behind, and he wouldn't have had it any other way.  
  
"I've missed you too, Draco Malfoy. If you would excuse me, I was talking to my Eadem before. For he would have bitten you and left you to die, had I not commanded him to stop." Harry watched Draco's eyes skim the compartment floor, searching for a hidden enemy, his body perfectly still, ready to defend himself or bolt should it come to it. "And dare you call me a follower of Voldemort again, I won't be so quick as to stop Eadem."  
  
"Funny you should defend yourself in such garb. You'll have to excuse me, for presuming such an obvious change." Draco's eyes never left Harry's face, determining if he was speaking the truth, or postponing his time. Harry merely walked down the hall a few steps to a compartment which he new to be empty, opened the door and sat inside, challenging Draco to follow. And follow he did, right behind Harry. He sat opposite him on the plush seats, his eyebrow raised in a questioning aire. "Please, enlighten me as to why you feel I shouldn't rightly judge."  
  
"Because your father has apparently not informed you of his Lord's doings this summer. So you know not what you speak."  
  
"Of course he's informed he of what his Lord has been doing. He's-"  
  
"Currently lying in a gutter swarmed by his loyal Death Eaters, cursing my existence and himself, killing off anyone who comments or gets to close?" Harry chuckled at Draco's perplexed look. Seemingly, his father hadn't informed him of that little detail.  
  
"Well Mr. High and Mighty, why are you wearing a Death Eater's cloak?"  
  
"It's not. I bought it for less than its worth from a kindly old wizard's shop. It can be found in the outskirts of Germany." And because I needed to be feared so none would approach me, Harry added silently in his head. After Voldemort's attack he had been all but banished by those present. It took him some practice, but after seconds of try and desperation, he totteringly flew out of England and to somewhere he would not be identified so easily. It was raining, tears falling from the sky, representing the tragic battle fought hours before and all slain. The wind had picked up, sending him lurching into the weave of it's flow, flinging him about until it decided it had enough, and dropped him above a lake. And it should have ended that night. Voldemort should have run home with his tail between his legs, his life force failing him and close to death, never to be heard of again. Harry Potter, The Boy Who Lived, should have drowned shortly after, the present pulls of the depths of the lake tugging him forever down and down, until one man, so old and caring that he was, tempted the fates to change the destiny of those around him. Not so old was he to dive into the lake and save Harry, pulling him to safety and then a home, but old was he to collapse in his efforts, near to death himself.  
  
For hours they lay side by side, water cleared from their lungs, bones weary from use and abuse, but gaining energy little by little. Finally, when the light peaked over the horizon, Harry pushed himself to a sitting position, helping up the old man with their combined strengths. The aged wizard led them deep into the surrounding forest, much like that of the Forbidden Forest on Hogwart's grounds, until they reached a small cabin with beds to rest upon.  
  
A full three days passed before Harry awoke one morning to the smell of bacon in the air. He wearily got to his feet and sought the smell, which in turn would lead him to the man he distinctly remembered. And it did, the man hovering over a stove with a pan in his hand, fork in the other. A small table was set for two, as Harry had hoped, and he walked to it and gratefully sat upon the comfy chair. The man turned around to be startled by Harry's appearance, but smiled kindly at him and brought the food over. It was eaten in complete silence, before he used his fork to point to Harry's wings.  
  
"Not normal, those," he stated. Harry smiled shyly. Not normal indeed. "Bet they come in handy though."  
  
Harry waited quietly for the man to criticize him and throw him out of his house. But it never came. Instead, he just kept eating, reassuring Harry that he was welcomed. How was it that a muggle could be so understanding? Shouldn't he be running for the hills, screaming about the Devil's descent onto the world? Unexpectedly, Harry felt a pang in his head. When he opened his eyes, those closed previously in pain, he saw a purple tint around the old man.  
  
"W-wizard!" Harry stammered out. The elder just looked confused at Harry's outburst before he smiled.  
  
"Why yes I am."  
  
The meal passed in silent and then the day. Weeks went by as Harry learned to fly properly, using the trees around him as a driver would cones to learn to practice by. It wasn't until an owl landed on the white fence surrounding the house that Harry knew it was time to leave. So much had he enjoyed the stay, but the gray owl reminded him of Dumbledore, and his freedom. The note said little. Only that Dumbledore requested that John Medlock deliver his housemate, Harry Potter, to the school of Hogwarts Witchcraft and Wizardry on August the 7th, 11:00 A.M. It came as such a surprise to the man to find he was housing the Great Harry Potter, but he didn't comment on it, only made a bag of food and some clothes and packed it into a bag.  
  
"Follow me," he directed to Harry, entering into his house once again. A room that had been previously locked and banned from Harry's usage was opened with a flick of his wand, the lights glowing, reflecting off the many dressing gowns inside. Harry stood in awe for only seconds before the man nudged the door shut behind him. "This way."  
  
In the closet which the man opened hastily, he pulled out a gorgeous black shiny cape, once tucked into the back of the small room. He handed it to Harry, enveloping him in a hug.  
  
"Be safe," he said. "This will hide your wings."  
  
Harry didn't know how to thank him, his gift of a place to live and food, now a cloak to help him, almost too much. He paid, though not much, for the gift of the cloak, asking only for one more item: A picture of the man and him together, someone he would never want to forget any time soon. With the photo taken, his items gathered together for travel, Harry gave the fond old man one last hug before he took off into the air, never looking behind him. The man, turning to walk back to his home, drew Dumbledore's letter from his pocket and threw it into the fireplace.  
  
"Fine. Keep your secrets." Draco said, getting up after watching Harry stare absently out the compartment window. "See you in school, Potter." He left, confirming everything he thought to be so. The world had suddenly flipped around on Draco, falling from his concrete path into the endless sky. He wasn't confused. No, he gotten over that one part of denial and now saw the truth for what it was. He would gladly die for Harry Potter, under his command in the upcoming battle.  
  
He had sent letters to Blaise over hours of the night, discussing what they witnessed at Diagon Alley, what they had come to understand within themselves. Blaise, his parents being non-worshipers of Voldemort, had no trouble in accepting his new feelings, but it had taken Draco, who's parents were fully devoted, hours upon hours, tears of betrayal and grief, unhappiness and acceptance to come to the similar conclusion. They would do anything for the Golden Boy. And all because they were now attached to him in a sort of way. At Diagon Alley they hadn't felt the usual love that everyone else had. Instead, those few feelings of overwhelming grief and despair that Harry had tried to block from himself had been broadcasted to them, their aura's familiar to Harry, unlike the rest of the crowd.  
  
As Draco left Harry's desolate compartment he smiled to himself. He had felt so hurt at the thought that Harry has switched sides, fearing he could do nothing but follow him, but it was not so. Potter was definitely part of the Light, regardless of his new apparel. He reached his own compartment, close to Harry's and opened the door to find Blaise staring out the window, awaiting his arrival.  
  
"Ay, Blaise. I've got some interesting news." Draco sat across from him, watching the scenery fly by as the train sped on.  
  
"What about?" Blaise didn't glance at Draco. If any had been watching, the two would just be assumed to be having a boring whispered conversation. Only, Blaise was tense waiting for Draco's reply, his thoughts in a whirlwind of anticipation.  
  
"Harry Potter."  
  
The two words set Blaise's heart pounding in his chest. So Draco had confirmed it was Harry. All the better. He had hoped he wasn't pledging himself to someone that had touched his soul by mistake. It would be hard to take the spell he and Draco cast upon themselves off. But he had no intention of it now that he confirmed the man in Diagon Alley to be Harry. Their Harry. Their leader.  
  
"And? Or are you going to make me sit here, tense, waiting for a heart attack?" Draco smiled in reply. Torture was never one of Blaise's strong points, and he prompted Draco into discussion.  
  
"He wears a cloak. A concealment cloak." Blaise's face was questioning what that could mean. Draco just shrugged, not entirely sure. "All I can assume is that he's hiding something. Something we'll eventually find out when we arrive at the school. He won't be allowed to walk around in it once we arrive, so we'll see."  
  
Blaise sat in silence for a moment, digesting everything he was told. "What if he doesn't accept us?" he asked himself out loud. Draco took it for a question and his eyed widened in surprise. He never thought that Harry wouldn't accept them. But from how he spoke earlier, it wouldn't be put past him to decline them. What was done was done, but it could create complications if Harry distanced himself from them if they tried to start a friendship. Already he had threatened to kill Draco.  
  
"He has a pet snake. Or something like a snake. Though, being a Parseltongue, I don't think he'd own a spider instead."  
  
"He showed you?" Blaise asked incredulously. Had Harry accepted Draco, if only to show him a pet?  
  
"He threatened me with it."  
  
"Oh." Draco smirked at Blaised downcast eyes. The spell had been on for only a few hours, and Blaise already was so involved with Harry it was a bit funny. Draco had seen it earlier, and it worried him. Had he performed the incantation wrong? He hadn't felt any greater of a pull towards Harry like Blaise described afterwards. Just the usual feeling in the pit of his stomach he had grown accustomed to. All he knew was that it was painful to watch Harry before. He looked broken.  
  
"I must contact my father. Harry mentioned that something had happened this summer. To himself and Voldemort. I intend to find out what it was. Try your connections?" Blaise nodded in agreement, his eyes drooping in lack of sleep he attained the night before. Draco's body agree with Blaise and reminded him of the few hours he slept the previous day. With the promised thought in his head to find out what happened to his Harry, Draco fell asleep.  
  
Harry peered out his window into the rapidly darkening sky. His wings twitched on his back, begging to be released and used. They fluttered again, but Harry used all his will to ignore his random twitching and looked around his compartment and then out into the hall. It was completely dark except for the last rays of the sun dying down. Had he been staring out the window so long? He got up and stretched, raising his arms above his head and standing on the tip of his toes, his bones creaking and clicking back into place they had previously fallen out of. Sated for the moment, Harry walked out into the hall, hoping the Trolley Lady was near. Evidently this part of the train wasn't used, boxes lining the floor and walls completing his train of thought. So the lady wasn't going to be coming. It was all right. His thirst could wait until they reached Hogwarts, which would be relatively soon.  
  
He entered back into his compartment and closed the door. Eadem was nowhere in sight, and he shivered without the contact of his companion. Having nothing to distract himself with, Harry's thoughts drifted to the only present memory available to him.  
  
  
  
"Wake, my Differo. You mussst wake. Your ride hasssss sstopped. Differ?. Wake!" Eadem's tongue tickled Harry's ear and he turned in his sleep, his assaulted ear trapped between his head and the back of the seat. "Differo, ssssssleepy head. You have to get up. Get up." Harry just ignored him and rolled over again, head buried in his arms.  
  
Eadem was about to cater to more drastic measures when he heard footsteps approaching. Draco slipped open the door into the compartment, Blaise next to him.  
  
"I told you he must still be sleeping." Draco moved to sit down next to Harry. Eadem abruptly snapped at Draco as he reached his hand towards Harry's body. "You must be who he spoke of earlier. I'm only waking him. We've reached our destination, and we have to leave the train. I won't harm him, not when you're only inches away from me." Draco hoped fervishly that the snake could understand him, and sighed in relief when it backed down just a bit, its red eyes glowing in the dark of the shadows, poised to strike should he take back his word.  
  
He and Blaise had felt Harry reach out for something to grasp onto, believing it for the worst, so they had rushed over to find Harry asleep. Draco held back his sharp remark. Harry had worried them, and here he was in a peaceful slumber, which Blaise stated was no doubt about his long ago Gryffindor Adventures or something just as absurd. But the slight crinkle of Harry's brow and the little sweat on his face made Draco think twice about Harry's believed happy dream.  
  
"Such a quiet untroubled soul considering, his dreams must be something horrid to plaque him. Wake, you. Awake!"  
  
"I'll bring a trumpet to awake his sleepy head," Blaise jested, clearly amused at Harry's reluctance to get up.  
  
Draco decided physical contact would bring Harry from his current little stupor, and he shook his shoulders with a small force of might, enough to startle anyone from their dreams they sought to live in. Harry jumped to, startled so that he called a small ball of fire to his hand to fight against his attacker. Upon noticing Draco and Blaise in the compartment he quickly put out his fire and looked around him, wondering at the chances that they would be the ones to find him and wake him. Not Hermione and Ron.  
  
"Crealisssss nuct fasssssem? Ssscentiu ssssssiltep passssssunvass?" Draco and Blaise could only watch in attentive rapture as Harry whispered in Parseltongue to his hidden snake. Seconds later Eadem crawled from the shadows and to Harry's outstretch arm, sneaking his way up and around his neck, hissing all the while in what Draco believed as a reply.  
  
"Ssssssaaadverr Draco Malfoy ssssssiv Blaissse Zabini." Harry introduced the two to Eadem, who watched them curiously from his perch around Harry's neck. He stretched out to Draco's face flicking his tongue to his nose, smelling his scent of pure shock and admiration.  
  
"And you are ssssssure they can be trusssssssted, Differo?"  
  
"Yes. I feel they can. It's a bit odd, I've never felt such a presence of understanding around them until now. But many things have transpired this summer, and I'm not the only one to undergo strange dealings of fate, am I?" Harry gestured for Draco and Blaise to exit the compartment and leave the train. As his foot touched the ground of Hogwarts he felt the need to break into a run and leave. He had stayed so far away for a good reason, why did he come back?  
  
Harry was going to turn around and leave when two pairs of hangs gripped his shoulders and pulled him forward. Draco smirked at his short standing bewilderment and gestured to the rest of the school who had already arrived at the entrance, explaining their need to propel Harry forward if he chose to walk slowly. He noticed Harry's sudden turn of pale skin to deathly white and the short rapid breaths he drew as they walked closer and closer to the school.   
  
It hadn't changed one bit, though Harry didn't understand why he felt it should have. It's presence beseeched respect, standing tall upon the cliff of the mountainside, its surrounding tree's creaking with moans in the torrent wind. The stones shouldn't be the same comforting gray they always were. The hall shouldn't be lit with lush white candles or innocent orbs lighting the halls for it's children. The Main Hall shouldn't be so comforting with it's four long tables and pictures of many Hogwart's witches and wizards that grew to accomplish great things along the walls besides the tables. Harry shuddered and grew enraged as his gaze fell upon the Headmaster sitting in his seat sipping his Earl Gray and staring at Harry's demonic figure entering the room. He threw Draco and Blaise's arms off him and stalked to the teacher's table. Snape and McGonagall stood to defend Dumbledore against the cloaked person. Harry mearly kept his gaze on Dumbledore as he lifted his arms, palms together, then threw them apart, sending Snape and McGonagall crashing into the walls.  
  
"I require a word or two with you, Headmaster," he spit the word. Dumbledore nodded but didn't rise, almost challenging Harry to speak infront of the large crowd that he had drawn in using magic against two of Hogwart's teachers. A girl behind him whimpered and Harry momentarily let himself forget his rage.  
  
// .....She reached to her neck, a crystal pendant dangling on a silver chain. With quivering fingers, so graceful with youth, she undid the necklace, opening Harry's strong hand and placing it within. "Please.." she begged.....//  
  
Harry shook his head, anger returning. "How could you?" he demanded, whispering harshly. "You abandoned me! All of you!" He looked to Snape and McGonagall who had picked themselves up and strode to the Headmaster's side, wands drawn. Dumbledore just lowered his eyes sadly, telling Harry all he needed to know in that one look. "Why bring me back? To torture me more? You all sicken me!"  
  
McGonagall took a good look at the face before her, her wand dropping with a clatter to the floor. Snape took only seconds later to lower his arm with a dull thud, gazing at Harry with wonder in his eyes. Had they all thought him dead? Some twisted demented soul wandering the plains, dead from his battle with Voldemort? Had they such little faith in him that they hadn't even had hope enough to send someone to look for him?   
  
"You...you all just.. All of you!" Harry's red eyes bore into each and everyone of them, his accusations hitting the pits of their souls where they had finally banished all beliefs of his survival after Sirius pronounced him dead. They looked as resigned as the Headmaster, accepting his hate for what it was, wanting nothing more, not even a hope for forgiveness. Harry backed up a step, breath hitching in his throat. "Why? Why..how...No." He stepped back again, the student body parting for him as he slowly walked away from those who showed him love for the first time. "No..." He shook his head, denying what they all confirmed. "No!" His yell was accompanied by glasses all over the hall breaking, students screaming as they were hit with the flying shrapnel.  
  
Dumbledore quickly stood to stop Harry from loosing control. He quickly waved his wand, giving all harmed students a relief from pain so that they could make it to the Hospital Wing. He calmly walked around the teacher's table, standing parallel to Harry and slowly descending upon him.  
  
"Stay away," Harry threatened.  
  
Dumbledore's eyes expressed his sorrow for having to perform magic against Harry, but the boy gaze him no choice. He was an emotional wreck, harming those around him whether he intended to or not, and Dumbledore had to stop him.  
  
He raised his wand and yelled, "Commotus adligo!" The spell struck Harry in his chest since he didn't even try to block the spell. Seconds went by as Dumbledore drew closer to the still Harry, when he raised his head slightly to look into Dumbledore's eyes. He moved his arm, then his leg, moving forward to Dumbledore who paused in his step to look incredulously at his student. Harry moved faster, 30 feet away, 20 feet, 10 feet, faster and faster until he broke out into a run at Dumbledore. Only five feet away did he raise his hand into the air and disappear. Dumbledore closed his eyes to concentrate when a hit from behind left him stunned and immobile.  
  
"How does it feel to be hit with your own spell, Albus? I came to finish school, and that's what I'm here for. Not you. Not them. And certainly not to be played and ordered around with. I told you before, stay away from me." Harry walked from his place next to the fallen Dumbledore, barely registering the cries from the students of a stranger beating their Headmaster. He was upon the door when his name was called.  
  
Hermione and Ron ran up behind him. "Harry! What happened, why did you attack Dumbledore?" Hermione sounded on the brink of tears and he couldn't bring himself to walk away from her.  
  
"I can't, Hermione." He simply stated, trying to keep his voice devoid of emotion.  
  
"Can't what, Harry?" she pleaded. "Please, talk to us, please!"  
  
"I'm so sorry, Hermione. I can't. Not anymore. I--just....Understand? I can't. Not after everything.."  
  
"Harry, what's gotten into you? We're here for you, buddy. Always have, always will be. You can talk to us." Ron reached his hand to grasp Harry's shoulder, but Harry stepped forward, out of his reach; just.  
  
He slowly turned his head to Hermione and Ron revealing his red piercing eyes, tattooed face and no scar. They gasped and Hermione actually took a step back before she could stop herself, instantly regretting it. Harry flinched at her reaction as if hit by a force she couldn't start to understand.  
  
"I see. Understand. Or forget. I have faith it won't be too hard for you. It wasn't for them." With that he left the Great Hall, entering into the halls of Hogwarts and away from his friends. Their loss starting to creep into their hearts, feeling only despair at not being able to force their bodies after him Hermione and Ron watched Harry walk away from them.  
  
A Sin Soaked Angel Sipped of Color  
  
Drowning in a sea of black velvet  
  
Rolling with red tides  
  
Hissing with the cries of those who've passed  
  
Gasping for truth  
  
Filling my lungs with sorrow  
  
Arms reaching for the sky  
  
Raining down acid burning my skin  
  
Forcing me back down  
  
Struggling to find comfort  
  
Now I own the red tides  
  
I tease the rain to show immunity  
  
Singing along with the cries that turned to screams like a siren song-sing- along  
  
Eyes stained with blood red hues  
  
I have found my comfort  
  
Known as acceptance  
  
My paradise found  
  
A sin soaked angel sipped of color  
  
The divine Fallen Angel  
  
The ruler of seas  
  
And the conductor of this storm 


	3. Hymn Of Persephone

Warnings: Harry Potter and Crew belong to J.K. Rowling, I make no profit  
  
Some of the writing may come out disfigured, I apologize  
  
I do not own the poem at the end, or Shakespeare's writing  
  
Also, I do not have a Beta Reader for this, so I'm sorry if there are mistakes. If you find some, please tell me in your review.  
  
~Chapters will be coming out once a week, every Monday, unless my muse fails me and it takes a bit longer.~  
  
***  
  
miles militis ab perditio: Yes, I'm a slash fan, though I don't know if I'll incorporate it fully into this story. As you see, Harry is going through a bit of a dark period, and as the chapters go on, you'll find out how his heart is incased in dark. If he can't love his friends, how can he truly love someone as a partner? Not to say that slash won't be implied. If you're weary of any heated romantic scenes, there most likely won't be any. Are you by any chance a fan of Tolkien or Anne Rice? If so, then and such relationship between Draco or Harry would be more of a relationship like Frodo and Sam, Lestat and Louis, etc. I hope that just because of my preferences you won't discontinue with my story, and I hope you will stick with it though we may vary on opinions of like and dislikes.  
  
Striped_jaguar: A reviewer who talks in the third person! Oh I could hug you! Stripes is very enthusiastic and is forgiven by Remii for forgetting to review. Remii is oh so glad that Stripes decided to review the next day, and caught her newest chapter! [Which Remii must admit that out of the 4 done, #2 is her least favorite.] If Stripes likes chapter #1, then she will most definitely appreciate chapter #3, and chapter #4, [chapter #4 working its way up to my favorite].  
  
Seems Dumbledore is annoying many people lately, no? He's irked me. And I must admit, that out of all the characters, I really don't know how to write Dumbledore, who, for all his appearances in the books, isn't that much developed and described. It's just easy to make him hate able. Ache be satisfied! For here is the newest chapter! Thanks for your wonderful long review, and I love you too!  
  
legion1: All praise the holy crap! Sorry. Couldn't resist. I can just picture a wad of turd with a little halo over it, shining golden light. Or maybe Mr. Hanky is in my mind? I'm so happy you love the story! [I love being loved, and I love you for loving me, and hopefully you will love me for loving you, and we'll just love each other!] Whoooo. Too much Chicago. Anyways, I'm glad you enjoy my story, because I write it for you! [Okay..so myself also/mostly..but I post it for your enjoyment!] Harry's new form makes me happy. I've always wanted to see him with wings! Thats whats so great about writing your own stories...making Harry have wings!  
  
Updated every Monday! Hope you read and review and enjoy immensely!  
  
***  
  
Chapter Three: Hymn Of Persephone  
  
Æternus Noctem  
  
Harry walked briskly from the Great Hall, putting as much distance between himself and the incredulous stares of those behind him. He turned left in the corridor, not quite sure where his feet were taking him, only happy to get away from the accusing eyes; not that he hadn't brought it upon himself. He was fool, caught upon the blind fury of the moment. He would have to be more careful when in contact with his professors, not that he would be having much contact with them.  
  
The hall he turned down was dimly lit, casting shadow forms to creep after him as he walked the corridor. Harry instantly liked it, the shallow wall and ceiling reminding him so of the inn he had resided in after his trip to the heart of Diagon Alley.  
  
//Her breath, once pants of effort, slowed to calm intakes of air, fresh for the first time in her many years....//  
  
Harry cried out. She haunted him; he freed her and still she haunted him. Was her spirit so disturbed as to taunt her savior from his sanity, following his footsteps, trailing him, 'till she split the crystal of his own mind? Was it to be so? Him fated to kill her over and over again, feeling her raspy breath against his chest, her shallow intakes of air until her lungs ceased to be used, tumbling her into oblivion?  
  
A sharp pain burst forth from his hand causing Harry to halt amidst the darkened corridor. Fresh blood leaked from small wounds upon his palm, tiny glass pieces slicing his flesh. So. It was to be. Harry clenched his hand, not healing his wounds, letting them scar for his newest sin. She made her mark upon him like so many others, reminding him, haunting him forever. How long until his body was no longer his own? How long until he had enough lives on his soul to diminish into nothing, scars the only reminiscent of the human form he once took?  
  
Eadem hissed softly in the dark, his perch upon Harry's right forearm. A soft response was heard in reply and Harry drew his attention to the painting adjourning the hall. Little could he see, but with a small spell of light extending from his pointer finger, he could make out the outline of a fiery red snake mounted in the painting.  
  
"Bright.." it hissed mournfully, hiding behind the grandfather clock that too was in the picture.  
  
"My apologies," Harry spoke, putting out the light instantly.  
  
The snake appeared back from it's hiding place, the moonlight of the solitary window illuminating it's golden eyes and slit pupils. Harry fondly traced his hand along the wooden frame of the painting to rest between the intersection on the frame and stone wall behind it. He smirked as he felt the cool air breeze against his fingers, exiting from the back of the painting.  
  
"This is a room, isn't it? Harry took a step back, examining the painting.  
  
"Yesssss. What'sss it to you? No one comess here ever." Bright golden eyes narrowed in suspicion, tongue flicking out to smell the air.  
  
"Would you open it?"  
  
"To you?" the snake climbed about the sides of the clock, entering into a hole and resting upon the long rusted pendulum, gently oscillating back and forth to a hushed ticking.  
  
"Yes, us," Harry indicated to Eadem, still firmly latched around his arm.  
  
"Hogwartss ssssssstudentss, yessssss? Go to your housssesss." the snake closed his eyes, lost in the hypnotic sway.  
  
"We don't have a house. Not anymore. Let us reside here for the year?" If all else failed, Harry would have to go back to Gryffindor Tower, or spend the rest of the night in some abandoned classroom, neither appealing choices.  
  
"Rebelsss? Yessssssss? Company..." The snake opened one eye to gaze critically over Harry and Eadem, closing it in his decision.  
  
Harry had to step back as the door swung open, revealing an empty room of black where the uncovered windows' light did not reach.  
  
"Passsssword?" the snake asked as the door teetered in it's place and closed abruptly, locking Harry in darkness.  
  
Harry stood for a moment in contemplation, gazing about his new dwelling. "Persephone," he whispered.  
  
The room's gloom reached to Harry's heart and he hesitated. The grime and dust wasn't something he was about to rejoice in sleeping upon. Extending his arms above him, Harry pictured the room as he imagined a room of his choice would be. Opening his eyes he smiled in relief. Everything was how he wanted it to be, perfect in his eyes. Thin green curtains covered the windows, casting an emerald glow onto the new desk below them. He had a carpet, not accustomed to the cool of the stone beneath his bare feet in the morning, of a cream color, long and soft to tread on. The center of the room held a long thin glass table, a dragon breathing fire etched upon its features. His ancient books on Alchemy piled atop it, a single red, black and white candle centered around and on the books. The red-orange glow the fire cast around the lit the room, amplifying the candles and moonlight, pleasantly contrasting to Harry's dark materials. His bed was on the adjacent wall to the left of the fire, covered in silk sheets and a comforter of a deep ocean blue, the silver lining as foam to a breaking wave.  
  
Harry smiled and sat upon his light gray couch, sinking into the yielding cushions, finally off his feet and comfortable. With only a few additions of a closet for his clothes to be placed into and his old school trunk at the foot of his bed, it's crest a red snake curving around a blooded dagger, his room now complete. Harry stood, not able to be in the pleasant atmosphere with his cloak upon his back. Carefully, as not to hurt himself more, he pried it from his sweaty shoulders, hanging it in the closet. With the hardest trial complete, Harry easily magicked his black shirt off his body and onto his bed. He folded it, the process drilled into his head from his years of servantry at the Dursleys, and placed it on one of the shelves in the closet. Even with his ever present tattoos along his upper body, his muscles from the many years of Quidditch practice and hard labor during the summer, were hard to miss. Nothing bulging, but firm and obviously there.  
  
Eadem hissed his approval, causing a small blush to tint Harry's cheeks at the compliment. Never before had anyone so much as given him a second look unless to gaze endlessly at his scar. His scar. It was the one thing that Harry wouldn't mind the loss of, his emerald eyes of his mother the biggest pain present in his heart. Humanity hadn't understood his hate of publicity, nor would they even try. He was their hero, he understood, but it didn't necessarily lead to the want of fame and fortune. Especially if it barricaded him against knowing other people, awed and too legendary to approach: disgusting and needy, a disgrace and arrogant boy. His world was purged in black and white, two sides to himself, no one daring to find the skin underneath the bindings, the true person, free of critiques, free of articles, free of fame and heroism. Him. The orphaned abused boy who's name was Harry Potter. Who didn't know what magic was. What wizards were, Hogwarts, wands. Who didn't know who Voldemort was.  
  
With a quick look to Eadem, who was watching him in rapture, the first time seeing him, Harry pulled off his pants. Really seeing him, his physical scars from his cousin, uncle, bully's at his elementary school who thought he was too small. Too weak. It was the first time anyone would see his whole body, the pale hallow skin that would never tan, the firm and sculpted, yet slightly withered body that wouldn't gain weight, all due to his lack of food as a child. With his pants gone, Harry removed his boxers, not used to sleeping with any clothing on.  
  
Eadem didn't comment, feeling Harry's deeply ridden insecurities about himself. He only moved closer to the wall as Harry lifted the blankets off his bed and slipped under them. He sighed, staring up into the dark of his ceiling, not tired, not bored, nothing. Harry smiled suddenly, stepping out of the bed to sit upon the covers. He raised his hands together, clasping them parallel to his chest and chanted.  
  
"Æthra ne ad relegare absque di Gaeia...speculumar incilco ea occludo lacunar....tempus defluo, transitus ui exemplum....Emanio excituom manus ea valui ad nonvere caelum!" Harry raised his hands, glowing with almost unrestricted light of all the colors combined, standing upon his bed. He lifted them over his hand and with all his might flung the orb to his ceiling, hands pushing the sphere to imbed itself into the stone, mingling with the castle itself. When all the light had faded from sight, Harry watched with his new vision the magic he created combine with the magic flowing through the veins of the stone's in his room, gathering at the center and exploding to go shooting out into every crevice. He slumped into his bed, glad he had finish everything he wanted to with his room. Overhead, his ceiling, like that to which the Great Hall's did, reflected the sky outside his room, stars shining and dulling in the dark blue of the atmosphere, winking at him with every turn of his head.  
  
Shifting in bed, Harry's eyes stayed open, running in-between, on, and over each star in the galaxy, not half his energy drained from such a powerful spell. He was restless, and his wings had started fluttering again, reminding him of his subtle use of them. He hadn't flown for so long. Not since Medlock's house, and even then that was only to learn. Never had he flown for the enjoyment of flying like he did with his broom. Harry closed his eyes in rhapsody, feeling the wind blow against his body, through his clothes to tickle his skin. Wind blowing through his face and hair, sighing as it met with his hard body, challenging him to control himself in the never-ending whirlwind. Challenging him to stay with the river's writhing course in the sky, taking him in it's grip to roll about the heavens, not wanting to land upon the ground ever again, so caught up in his utter delightment.  
  
Harry sat up in bed. He needed to fly. His blood sang beneath his skin, tempting him into giving into the utter ecstasy of flight. His wings beat against his back along with his blood, flowing about him, creating a torrent of wind to arise in his room, blowing out the candles on his table, his fire hissing as it was hit with the air. He stood from his bed and walked over to the window, wrenching it open. His warm body was hit with the cool flow of air from outside, stinging with the contact, fire against ice. Looking down, Harry noted with happiness the great drop his his window to the ground and leapt out.  
  
Falling seemed like eternity to Harry. His back faced the ground, arms dangled in front of his head, clasped together, his legs rising with the push of the air from his increasing descent. As he felt the ground nearing upon him, Harry let out one ragged breath. He could end it all now. Let go, be free. Traitorously, inches from the ground, Harry's wings spread out full length, catching the wind beneath them and stopping him, hovering just above the rich green grass. He let his hands go, throwing them down against his sides, his wings mocking his movements, sending him hurling backwards, just brushing the grass below him, flying into the dark of the Forbidden Forest. Minutes past as Harry rushed past the trees, flying between branches quicker than he'd ever gone before. He flew directly in the path of an upcoming tree, twirling in his flight for his stomach to face the ground; flying upwards along the bark, centimeters from contact.  
  
He burst from the tree line of the forest, leaves dancing around him from being uprooted from their bodies. They were caught in the dance of his flight upward, the motion flinging them about Harry's body, twirling as they lost momentum, gliding back down to their homes. Harry flew onward, up and up into the dark sky, his naked body catching the rays of the moon smiling upon him, his wings, for the first time since appearing on his body, shimmered from a black to pure white. He reached his left arm towards the silver sphere, pointer finger extended to fondly trace it's surface before he stilled his wings. He plummeted back towards the Earth, spiraling in his drop, lone arm raised above his body, the other clutching at his heart. Stretching his wings to their utmost length he slowed his fall, floating back down to the grounds of Hogwarts, his cage.  
  
Harry laid upon the terra firma, blinking up into the sky, his arms stretched out resting upon his wings, looking to all like a fallen angel from the Welkin above. He closed his eyes from the world, relishing in the exhilaration his flight had just brought him. His body hummed for the first time in a long time, his blood danced through his veins, adrenaline coursing from head to toe, his brain complete mush in his head, only knowing his contentment. He laid there upon the dirt, the stones, grass, mud, everything. He laid upon the living creatures in the ground beneath him, worming their way to their small nests in the soil. He laid upon the existence of the world, it's core pulsing underneath him, sparking him with life. He laid upon the hand of the galaxy, cradled in it's warmth, it's angelic glow, it's appraising smile. For hours Harry stayed lying without a care in the world until the golden sun peaked from behind the horizon, waking the birds and animals, reminding him of his life outside this ecstasy.  
  
Reluctantly, and with one last kiss goodbye to the earth below him, Harry rose from his sleep, flying back to his bedroom window and into his school, his sadness, grief, pain, sorrow, and loss all coming back to him. As he left to gather his clothes and head to his personal bathroom, Harry's wings ruffled, changing from their pearl white to a dull gray, and finally his piercing wounded black.  
  
He took his time getting dressed, not wanting to be confronted with the people he once smiled about. Had they recognized him? Or had they merely dismissed him as a somebody to avoid? Did they even care?  
  
He sighed, donning his black pants, black shirt, and with great averse, his concealment cloak. Eadem opened his eyes, not yet wanting to move about, yet feeling Harry fix the bed, feeling his day begin. He felt Harry's loath to wear the cloak and went to his Differo, presenting himself as some sort of comfort in Harry's pain. Harry greatly accepted Eadem onto his body; already freeing some of the stress he had gathered in the short time he was back in the castle. As uneager as he was, Harry left his room after uttering a good morning to the painting, memorizing his way through the corridors, intent on remembering how to return back.  
  
The Great Hall was alive with students, all eating to their heart's content, enjoying the conversations with their fellow school dwellers, comparing schedules. Harry stood by the doors, determined to make an appearance. He lifted his hands to lay them on the grand mahogany doors, then pushed them open, halting the talking of the students. He strode purposely a few feet, announcing to all who missed that he was there, not leaving them quite yet. A few girls cried out at seeing him, his presence masking their happiness in place of utter terror. Harry let himself smirk at the scared faces, knowing it wouldn't be hard to attain their hate.  
  
At the Gryffindor table, Hermione and Ron made a place for him to sit, waving him over, hoping he would join them. To their disappointment, Harry just nodded his greetings, then turned away. He looked about the Great Hall, not wanting to sit with anyone else, yet hungry for the first time in months. Choosing a corner to the left of the doors, he conjured a table and chairs for him to sit at, undisturbed by his fellows in their chatter and eating. Dumbledore watched him from his perch at the head of the Teacher's Table, swishing his wand beneath the table for no one to see, indicating to the House Elves to bring food to the newest table. With a resound sigh, it was the least he could do for Harry.  
  
Harry was a bit surprised when he sat down, greeted by food popping up at his table, plates and cups appearing for his use, a jug of Pumpkin Juice fresh by his side. He took a piece of toast and placed it on his plate, pouring himself a cup of juice when two shadows fell upon the table. Harry reprimanded himself for not feeling the people coming towards him, distracted by his slight hunger. He looked up and controlled himself not to open his mouth in shock; Draco and Blaise stood at his side momentarily before they sat in the two seats at his left and right, stacking their plates with food from his table.  
  
Taking courage from Draco and Blaise's actions, Hermione and Ron stood from Gryffindor Table, walking over to seat themselves in the last two unoccupied seats at Harry's new table. Harry panicked at seeing the people around him. They didn't understand what they were doing. None of them understood the consequences of being around him! He quickly pushed his chair backwards, intent on rising to leave, but Draco and Blaise grasped his arms, pushing him back into his seat.  
  
"Harry, stay," Draco commanded, his arm still holding Harry to his seat, his free one cutting his pancakes with his fork and eating. Hermione all but laughed at Harry's confusion at Draco's order. Still more confused when he complied, resting himself into the seat and picking up his piece of toast. They hardly understood the consequences that would be administered to them. He could already feel Dumbledore's uneasy opinion of having four of his student's seated at a potential enemy's table, as hard as he tried to mask it.  
  
Eadem slinked out of Harry's robe, intent on finding a morsel of food to eat, his body needing the replenishment of nutrients Harry's small appetite restricted him to. Draco took no hesitation on putting some scrambled eggs on a small dish and setting it in front of Eadem, accompanied by another small bowl filled with pumpkin juice. Harry hardly moved as he watched Eadem expose himself to the four students, his identity made known to their presence.  
  
"What are you doing?" Harry quietly asked Eadem, hoping against hope that his love would enter back into his cloak and his current companions forget they saw him.  
  
"I am hungry, Parssssss. Differo forgetss to feed Eadem. Yessssss. Dragon givess Eadem food for nourissssshment."  
  
"Dragon?" Harry looked to Eadem, puzzled for the first time since he was united with the snake.  
  
"Yesssss. Bright Dragon next to you, Differo. He meanssssss no harm. Smellss ssssweet." Eadem moved to Draco's side, earning a stifled gasp from the blonde and Harry's eyes boring into his. He ignored Harry for the time being, intent on confirming any doubts as to his belief in Draco. With a soft hiss and slow movements, he eased himself onto Draco's frozen arm, twining himself around it, then gazing into Draco's startled gray eyes. "Intentionsssss pure. Like him, Eadem doesss. Ssssurely Differo doess as well?"  
  
Harry stood abruptly from his seat, his chair falling to the floor with a dull thud in his hurried movements. Another betrayal. Eadem had dared to enter into the mind of another. Harry felt, with impending loss, that the one he believed in, cherished; sought after in all his hardships, he loved; had touched, connected albeit for an instant, with another; causing his heart to shatter.  
  
"So be it. I understand now, Eadem. I go." Harry moved to walk away, being caught in his own web of sorrow and grief. Never before had he felt so empty, a shell, hallowed. If Eadem chose to bond with another, it was a fight he couldn't parry, it hitting too close to the tissue of his soul not yet healed. Utter emptiness swarmed him, he was black, sickeningly dark, Eadem's bright light in the back of his mind fluttering in it's brilliance.  
  
"Ssssstop, Differo. You have not yet to undersstand. I have not yet to explain. Love isss ssstill sstrong, no? Don't walk away. Not yet. Not ssso sssssoon."  
  
Harry halted in his movements. Eadem...hadn't just left? Stayed with him? But all were doomed to leave him, this Harry knew. It was a short time before Eadem discovered another, perhaps a stronger bond with Draco, and decided to disconnect all ties to Harry. It was a short time before his friends journeyed along the same path tread by his deceived parents. Walked by his godfather. Familiarized by his professors. Too short of a time had he before they all left. All discovered his horrible secret and ran. Too short.  
  
"Sit down this instant, Potter, and try to absorb some protein, and fat, into that frail corpse you call a body." Draco had stood beside Harry, watching the boy fight himself, denying, and complying to his traitorous thoughts. All at the table had seen his eyes flicker from their color to a dull brown, hardening to a black, and once again flaring to life as a piercing blood red. Harry raised his head slowly, a pained look of a man discovering the sins of his life and realizing his destruction, upon his face, opened for the first time since he arrived at the school. His feelings, once hidden behind his hate were present, showing the utter loss and saddened terror of his acceptance, his heart on his sleeve for any about him to ruin.  
  
"Harry," Draco spoke softly, expressing all his hope and kindness into saying that one name. Harry looked longingly into Draco's eyes for a second; connecting with his mind and voicing everything he couldn't speak. Draco dropped to his seat, his eyes wide and troubled, his mind experiencing the overwhelming emotions Harry had unloaded onto him.  
  
"I need...to go. I must go." Harry, as if in a daze, walked with a slight fault to his steps, a drunken dance grabbing hold of his body. He reached the door's of the Great Hall and leaned against them, his palm lying aside the cool hard wood, fingers tingling with power to open the door.  
  
He breathed in the sweet air of the outside when his feet finally left the hard stone ground of the school, the few chains around him breaking as the extended his arms to the sky. Last night played heavenly in his mind, pulling him, hands surrounding his body, lifting him to embrace the fair sky. How he longed to shred his clothes and dance under the full moon as a child of the night, a faerie to his faerie-ring, dancing his magic into the earth, freeing his heart as he spun a web of enchantment to the star-kissed flowers. Oh how he longed to rid himself of his mind for a short time. Cradle the shining tears of the midnight sky, dance along the streams of the wind.  
  
But now was not his time to forget. Early morning it was and students were milling about, venturing from breakfast to classes, starting their day in their safe haven, unaware of all the trials of the outside world. Unaware of his immoral demise. How now? To be wrought in time, stuck in this gaping puckering wound of immortal life. How now was he to smile at the memories of long ago, to free himself of all evil and continue on with his life? It seemed he was not to meet a happy end, to live the life those children dreamed of, gazing out their windows long hours after their parents ordered them to bed, imagining a world of princes and dragons, of rescues and love; falling to sleep with the cool night air tickling their skin. Heaven smite his worldly dreams! Send lightening crashing to his ground, burning the earth he stood on, smoting his wonders, his wishes. Leaving only behind his revenge and hate, his anger and scorn, his loss and prayer for it all to end. Yet too cowardly was he to end it for himself, too powerful was he to give in to those of less. Too in despair to realize anything of worth.  
  
Harry looked to the highest tower of the school, gazing at it's curves, picturing the perfect cushioned beds inside, laughing teenagers gathering their books to start learning, intent on being educated, intend on seeing their friends. How he longed to be one of them. A nobody. Nothing of importance. He faced away from the Forbidden Forest, knowing that too long his gaze was on it, the less control he had of himself and immerse himself within it's confines. The library would be his learning ground, Dumbledore and classes be damned. He would find his sanctuary, find his cure from Voldemort and all who opposed him.  
  
He entered into the school once again, noticing a tiny prickle against his skin, indicating that Dumbledore hoped to keep tabs on his person. Smirking to himself, careful to tread along the shadows in concealment, he sent out a high focused energy pulse, sending it forth to Dumbledore and whatever his object of his sight was. He was satisfied to feel a crack and shattering in the back of his mind, knowing that Dumbledore was unsuccessful on following him, the prickle of his skin gone.  
  
Hermione and Ron searched about the hallway, hoping one last glimpse of Harry before they left to class. He had not the heart to disappoint them, and stepped into the light, nodding his head in his departure, and walking up the stairs to the library. Hermione smiled slightly, knowing that Harry could have hidden himself completely, leaving them to walk away in sadness without his presence. And yet, he had shown himself to their benefit, risked something within himself on letting them know he was there. Always there. Letting himself be known.  
  
"All my love to you, Harry Potter. All my love and friendship to be known, to you!" Hermione called out, smiling at Harry who had paused on the stairs. His frame had trembled slightly with her declaration, and she was filled with joy to know that though he had tried to deny her, he could never deny her confession of her love for him, knowing that he would always have the truth, knowing he could not dismiss it as farfetched longing. Ron looked puzzled to Hermione who stood at the base of the stairs, immobile in her thoughts. Even more so puzzled when a tear cascaded down her cheek, her eyes smiling at Harry's retreating back, her tears bright with a shine instead of caught with sorrow.  
  
"Come, Hermione. We'll be late." Ron extended his arm to her, smiling warmly as she grasped her hand around him. Everything would somehow work out, she would see. Harry was not too far gone for them. Never too far gone for his friends to plunge in to whatever depths it took and reach out their hands to help him come back. This Ron was sure of. No matter the cause, Harry would be with them again, not feeding off the realm of darkness he had become accustomed to, but embracing the radiant glow of the light with his friends surrounding him, helping him along.  
  
HYMN OF PERSEPHONE  
  
Wild blow the winds on this black night -  
  
laughter shrieking within my dumb ears.  
  
A baying of dogs, the sound of horns, the mad light  
  
of the moon blazing on a plain empty and fierce:  
  
here is where I make my halt. My white feet  
  
writhe on the grass, seeking a soothing peat.  
  
The raw soles kiss blade. White burns red, It is the nothing-space to which I have fled.  
  
And the god is about: which mercy will he bring,  
  
the ecstasy of the arrow, the sweet death's-bed?  
  
This mad poet would sing.  
  
Death is in every gift. Do not fight  
  
the glance, the sharp kiss, the sweet metal tears  
  
of rain falling on midwinter's blight -  
  
This soft sobbing patter is all the soul hears.  
  
Dark plains of the night, where my mouth might beat  
  
from its chest; throbbing; where my mouth might eat  
  
stranger foods: nectar, ambrosia, toadstool-bread,  
  
accepting dark hell with delighted dread.  
  
Love of my masked lord is a frightening thing:  
  
The ground near my feet is soaked where I've bled;  
  
This mad poet would sing.  
  
This hell-token coiled about my neck (Now invite  
  
what's beyond the mask to the body mask-worn)  
  
Here in this wood, mosses of malachite  
  
entwine tressy roots along granite spears,  
  
a gasping coitus is what makes me complete;  
  
thick honey drips to mingle with the blood at my feet.  
  
I give up myself. My light glows where I have spread,  
  
my hair tosses - and an ancient figurehead,  
  
an oracle, a wild prophet, I scream -The moon is bleeding  
  
but none perceive. These words stay unsaid.  
  
This mad poet would sing.  
  
A/N: No, this is not a Harry/Hermione story. Her love for him is pure and that of a friend. 


	4. Bounds of Mortality

Warnings: Harry Potter and Crew belong to J.K. Rowling, I make no profit  
  
Some of the writing may come out disfigured, I apologize  
  
I do not own the poem at the end, or Shakespeare's writing  
  
Also, I do not have a Beta Reader for this, so I'm sorry if there are mistakes. If you find some, please tell me in your review.  
  
~Chapters will be coming out once a week, every Monday, unless my muse fails me and it takes a bit longer.~  
  
***  
  
miles militis ab perditio: Aren't they great? They're definitely one of my most favorite Vampire books. Everything else diminishes in comparison. You hated Queen of the Damned too? All I had to say for it was that it had a decent soundtrack ^^;; And isnt Lestat a blond?? Why did they put a brunette as the lead character?? [I think Tom Cruise should have made the movie again..even if he is older..he still looks the same] It was so confusing! If I hadn't read the books before, I would have be so horribly confused that I probably would have thrown popcorn at the screen. As it is, I had to retell the whole bloody story to my friends who hadn't read the book and didn't understand! :(  
  
legion1: And I'd love to love you for loving me for loving you! :) or not...] ..they aren't. And it makes me sad... But I can still do it anyway!!! Cause this is my fanfic dammit! ........  
  
Hermione had to tell Harry that she loved him, because he needed to know it! By telling him of her love, Hermione made it known to Harry, (even though he tried to deny it) that he was cared for. And so, he can't hate her and think horrid things of her and distance her from him in his mind, because it's now confirmed that she's a presence in his life whether he wants her there or not.  
  
Yay to being spoiled!!!! Spoil me all you want :D And Stripes need not give Remii a wonderful intelligent conversation that goes for hours...all Stripes needs to do is read and review so Remii knows Stripes is out there!  
  
Hm..Maybe he'll get better...or..MAYBE HE'LL DIE A HORRID DEATH AND BE TRAPT IN THE PITS OF DESPAIR ALONG SIDE BARNEY!!!! But...maybe he'll get better.  
  
-returns Stripy hug 10x!- Hugs are great! We like hugs (muse and I) And we like cookies. And baking cookies, dont we? Have a cookie for being cool and writing long reviews and..shhhhh...being one of Remii's favorites!  
  
:)  
  
fyre: A new reviewer! Aaaaaa :) Welcome to Aeternus Noctem [do you know how many times I just spelled my stories name wrong?] Sorry to not be able to answer and of your questions of what? who? when? huh? but, if I did, you wouldn't need to read this anymore, now would you? I've read so many stories with snakes in them..and I've always wanted to write one a bit more indepth..where the snake has a greater relationship with Harry than just being a pet communucating with him. I had to make something more dramatic..more tying...  
  
Eh..Dumbledore being blamed? Not so much, but more of his role in the 'incident' will be revealed later on. But Surrey is sure as hell distroyed. Harry has wings, which was sort of explained, but not in full detail.. and his scar and mysterious connections to others have everything to do the day of his fight with Voldemort. Mwahahaha. What power! Having the bull by the balls. Aaaaaaand, I'll reveal little by little of Harry's powers, though some will suck, and others will be very fun.  
  
Harry is alone. I can't really explain why. I may write him, but it's his brain. ^^;; I'll try though, and I hope you'll understand.  
  
Er, I have no idea. I just decided to write this. He's not 15, but older, so I guess you could say post 5?  
  
Here's more.  
  
fyre: Dumbledore might have brought Harry to his current state, but he surely didn't intend for it to happen. Why everyone though Harry was dead will be explained a bit later...[when I finally feel like writing it in..or find the opportunity] but there is a good reason! Eadem..I love the name! I wanted something different, and I just so happened to look through my old latin dictionary..and Bam! Eadem=same. So..since he has such a strong connection to Harry, I figured I'd name him 'Same', and his name for Harry is 'Different'. [Differo]  
  
I tried to make it clear with the "flashback" that when Draco mentioned Harry's cloak, Harry's thoughts automatically went to the time he spent with the old man. I hate the *flashback* *end flashback*. It takes away from the mood of the story, and I wantd to get around that. Sorry if I wasnt clear.  
  
Eadem..is connected to Harry. You dont know how yet, and sorry, but I cant elaborate. He can though, sense, [if not know] what is going through Harry's head, and he then picked up the name Voldemort. [Do you remember how he said Harry Potter was a familiar name to him?]  
  
Keep reading. All will be explained.  
  
fyre: I had hoped it was beautiful! Was it hard to understand? His positions and wing movements, and such?  
  
You caught it! One hurrah to fyre for really noticing the intense moment of Harry kissing the earth beneath him.  
  
Eadem's great, aint he? I wanted to let everyone know that Harry is still human [embarrasment] though he tries to hide it.  
  
People leaving him will play into a big part of the story, and into the ending scene! [evil cackle]  
  
Not really immortal, per say, but..not human either. What kills him about himself, is that his mind is so disconnected to his body, that he sees himself as an imortal, yet his body is mortal and capable of dying. [that is better explained in this chapter]  
  
He didn't die! Though he's close. So close.  
  
More it is!  
  
ProfessorZ: Better be getting better! I hope my writing is improving with each chapter, and easier to understand. I dont think I've ever made anyone cry...[except in elementary school when I broke a friend's arm..or middle school when I broke a friend's finger... ^^;;] But with a passionate emotion for crying..not pain. Ee gatz..I didnt pain you, did I?  
  
Even though this is completely OOC and AU type story, I didn't want to completely change the characters from Harry Potter. So I'm happy you caught on that it's still Draco, Draco. Not just my version of him.  
  
Chappie here for loyal Yahoo!Groups fangirl!  
  
***  
  
Chapter Four: Bounds of Mortality  
  
Æternus Noctem  
  
Dust covered the bound array of reading as a second skin, suffocating their brilliant colors and casting them into a dull void. Nothing had been taken care of over the summer, no one giving a second thought to the knowledge the papers held. All the more evident was the absence of the one who's work was to care, her being probably off in some office brooding about the school's start and those ignorant little children who destroy her collection; hypocritical thoughts making her the one at fault. But Harry had no overwhelming thoughts to lend to the absence of Madam Pince, his attention preoccupied by the astounding collection of books lining the shelves. Never before had he realized there were so many, never until he had to go through all them to find what he sought.  
  
All he knew was that to start he needed to seek the Restricted Section, his focus on the combining of power to morph spells. Any book would do, just something to start him, point him on his direction so that he may know his way to go. Easily was it for him to open the gate holding the books from his grasp, such a trivial spell that he wondered how he never thought to break it before. But he discarding his amusement, intent on hunting down a title that called to him.  
  
It had been a sure disaster from the start, and after an hour of searching, Harry sat on the floor, dust rising from its displacement as he sat. Only one book had he found. Only one out of millions had caught his eyes, it's bindings hardly holding it together, leather peeling from it's face, hiding the title from view. It was nothing, and yet everything. His only source of information, and Harry hoped that it provided him some.  
  
The library was dark, clouds covering the sun and preventing light from entering through the windows. Though it did not hinder him from reading, his eyes able to see well enough in pitch black, it strained him so that he daren't use it to just read. With barely any acknowledgment in doing so, Harry called all candles around him to light, using too much power by mistake and setting them aflame, burning the wax till it was half way gone, oozing around the holder.  
  
Seating himself at a small table in the corner, weary to be fully exposed if said hypocritical librarian decided to do her job and discover him there, and not in class, Harry opened his book. He doubted that she would make a scene of it, having most likely talked with Dumbledore about his circumstances in the school, knowing to avoid him, but he had learned that precaution was best. No one really knew when an enemy would attack, rendering Harry to his current position: looking for ways to best Voldemort. It would be tricky, he knew, but the separation and combination of Voldemort to himself had to work to his advantage somehow. And if not..  
  
Well. Harry was prepared to end himself in such a way that would take all around with him. Damned be innocent who fought along his side. Damned be those who thought they could conquer the boy who stood against them. But, if there was a way to save everyone and instead relinquish what seldom little power Voldemort held, Harry would gladly sacrifice himself to see the other's end, letting the rest live their lives in peace, no needs to worry of who would or would not come home.  
  
Harry opened the face of the book, running his fingers along the title. It was old, he could feel it in his bones, the faint pulse of the book pounding in his ears. Long had it been since anyone had held it in such an embrace as he had. He rested the book on the table, not comfortable knowing that it was feeding partially off the energy he presented to it with his slight touch. The pages of the book quivered slightly, a silent wind felt only by the book turned it's pages till it reached a chapter, exactly what Harry was searching for. Grateful for it's help, Harry fondly traced the words on the page, giving a gift for the one he just received. Short lived was it though, that the book took his energy, for it needed little to last a long time.  
  
The chapter outline described the consequences of a Power Merge. To what it meant Harry had a small idea, himself being stronger since his fight gone wrong with Voldemort, than ever before. The book, he felt, was eager to leave his person, having been replenished of strength and wanting to be left alone in the ever-present gloom of the Restricted Section. Quickly, as not to displease it any further, Harry brought his hand to the page of the chapter, pressing it against the book until every part of his flesh was in touch with the paper. Carefully, as not to steal anything, Harry close his eyes and stretched his magic out to duplicate the words of the chapter. As he saw his magic encircle the writing in his mind, he slowly eased the words off the page, careful not to rip them off and completely take them out of the book. Successfully the words hung in the air above the book, perfectly duplicated, and Harry pulled them with great force away from the book's own magical binding. It was a difficult task, but Harry had practiced hard, and the words flowed into his fingers, up his arm, and into his mind, fully imprinted in his memory for him to use over and over again.  
  
"Thanks be to your patience," Harry whispered to the book. He cradled it in his arms as he walked silently to the area he of the restricted section he had taken it from. He placed it back in it's shelf, understanding it's glee to be back in it's safety. Harry ran one finger down the books spine, smiling when it shivered, then left. The Library was no good to him now that he had his information, and his room was the only place he felt safe enough to examine the information he gathered more carefully.  
  
He felt, rather than saw, Madam Pinch enter the Library as he slipped around the corner, hiding himself in the hallway's forever dark corners. The new information floated about his mind, confirming and amazing him to what exactly happened the day of Voldemort's attack. Fleeting images wracked his memory. Flashes of green light lit in front of his eyes, a laugh accompanied by a silent moment of despair welling inside him. It was so fast, rushing by him in a whirl of wind, crashing him to the ground, pelting him with memories so far pressed in his mind. Siruis' eyes boring into his mind, his accusations. Remus' despair. Lord Voldemort's utter joy in stripping him of his magic while absorbing it into his own body. His hawk, a guardian angel sent from the wisps of cloud and sun, created to protect him against worldly death, instead, flinging himself as a last resort into it's protecté. Voldemort's utter surprise to once again have his magic turned against himself. The feel of magic so powerful rolling into his scar, it sealing closed behind the last of the absorbed magic that once was Voldemort's. Blaring pain accompanied the diminish of his scar, the feeling of his mind ripping from his body, his soul, to replace itself, imbed itself, into Voldemort. And there was blood. Seas of red blood crashing from the sky and raining upon his body, barely still kept in the sky, the green light that held him fading from sight. Voldemort, the attacker, the animal attacking his prey, bled from an opened wound on his forehead, jagged in shape and harsh in sight. His glasses did nothing to protect his eyes from the rain pelting his head, dripping onto his face and into his eyes, burning them away. His feelings of horror at his lost sight, only to be flung back against the open sky by a shock wave of his own power, accompanied by the new pain of eyes created again. The blood swirled against his healing magic, tainting his completed eyes a bloody reminder, perfection at its most.  
  
Harry dropped to his knees in the hallway. It was too much. Oh so much to take on. How had it all happened? He was unlocked, he knew all. He knew how to destroy Voldemort.  
  
His legs trembled as he stood, his hands grasping the stones of the wall to steady his movements. He needed to get to his room, quickly, before he dropped from sheer exhaustion and numbing pain. Through his clouded sight and fogged mind, he knew that he would have to once again see that book. Once again read it's pages and imprint it's information into his mind. Curses to the pain it brought upon his mortal body, he knew no other way. He gasped and shuddered, appalled that this frail body dare give out from his weight. And what weight it was? He was nothing, food not appealing, reeking of burnt flesh. A dry chuckle met his ears. Was that his own voice? Daring to speak when he noticed not? Not only was he loosing his body to those memories that corroded it so, he was loosing his mind to them, those who wouldn't leave, his hunters. Fate was a tricky player, Harry realized. Giving him the solace of Eadem, then grasping his sole in repayment. But not yet. He couldn't give in now.  
  
With all his strength he fought off the black haze covering his eyes; it would do no good for him to loose consciousness in the halls of Dumbledore's school. He cast his hand in front of himself, forming beings of another worldly plane to help him in his walk. His Sending were composed of hundreds of spell symbols, their features clearly masked against gender, the only inkling to their human nature was the shapes of arms and legs protruding from the square flesh in the center, if flesh be the right word to describe them. Harry could clearly make out the circles, squares, triangles, and other shapes of his spell dancing along his Sending's body; signs of order, formation, intelligence and the directions of his current position to his room several floors down. Three in all were made, already gathering Harry in their arms and carrying him down the dank halls of Hogwart's School. One silently drifted ahead of the other, it's body fading in and out of sight, the candles of the hall casting a shine upon it, the dark masking it from sight except for a pale silver tint.  
  
They brought him soundlessly to his room all the while crooning over their master and adjusting to his greatest comfort, Harry himself trying not to fall asleep to their tender caring. The red snake of the portrait hissed his annoyance at the ghost like figures passing mindlessly through his painting, headless of his commands to stop, leaving Harry to speak the password, awaiting him inside.  
  
"Persephone," was whispered through a tired mouth, Harry's mind fuzzy and wanting only to sleep; not dream. For his dreams were plagued with eyes he never saw, lands he never walked, storms he never felt, worlds he never experienced. He longed to dive into his dreams once and forever, completely immersing himself in the fake lullaby of visions that he longed for, yet never truly knew. Not that he would ever voice his wants to anyone, least of all himself. For what could happen to a mind so fragile it finally admitted to itself of longing one should never experience? He wasn't free. Not able to give in yet. Still bound in this god forsaken mortality that no amount of power could hinder; his body just that, a body. No Other Worldly Temple to be praised for it's impeccable attributes. Not a shrine to balance the peace of death beyond it's barriers, only afraid for the movement of one place to another, no consideration cast towards it downfall. One day, Harry knew. One day his human frailty would be the end of him.  
  
The Sendings gazed at him mournfully before the last of their strength left them, sending them fading into the background of nothing, gone until he sent for them again. They couldn't watch for him now; no one could. Eadem was gone, Harry having left him at breakfast with another, not able to look upon his own eyes, knowing his body would betray him and he would cry at last. He couldn't afford that weakness. Once his body knew the feelings, it would overtake him. He turned about his bed, tired, exhausted, yet not ready to sleep, and having no energy to fly and break away. He wished, for once, that he hadn't cast away his friends, tied himself to this forlorn room away from prying eyes, was at classes blowing up potions and casting charms. Just as he had thought the night before...Just as his thoughts had betrayed him, yet again...  
  
Hermione and Ron sat side by side in class, gazing remorsefully at their brewing potion, wishing for all the world that the next five minutes would fly by, casting them from the stuffy room and out into the refreshing wind. They worried so of Harry, softly comforted by his gesture earlier, yet still uneasy when looking at the whole. They felt Draco and Blaise's eyes on them, as it had been the whole class, and they knew it would continue on. Time crept slowly, toying with it's prey, not yet ready to relinquish it's hold onto such a bounty as these tiresome children were. As it trickled by carrying the weight of their thoughts on it's back, so had Hermione added the last ingredient necessary for her potion to become perfect, carefully mixing it in with several strokes clockwise, several strokes counterclockwise. It shimmered a pale blue, somehow reminding her of Harry, yet knowing not why; only that his presence radiated in her head at the current time, the blue drawing her into it's color, gasping out Harry's name.  
  
"I have to find Harry." Hermione looked to Ron, showing him the urgentness of her proclamation, hoping he would understand. Harry was dancing in the back of her mind, holding onto the waves of her thoughts, tickling them to a standstill and holding them to his simulacrum, his mien spewing guilt, trouble, madness almost. Ron nodded in understanding, his thought also directed to Harry, knowing no way around him, bearing into his being and knowing no other. He saw movement around him; gazing out of the corner of his eye showed Draco and Blaise to be walking to his side.  
  
"We need to speak." Draco's tone left no questions, and Hermione and Ron found themselves nodding in consent. "You've felt him. We," he gestured to Blaise at his side, "have also felt him. You know what we speak of, and we have many things to discuss." With that he left, walking to the front of the classroom and out the door, Blaise following behind him; Snape ignoring the students leaving early, knowing they were his.  
  
Hermione hoped time would be kind for once, sparing her mind the assault of her thoughts carousing about it, leading swiftly to a headache. Ron fared no better, his first action wanting to be anger, yet knowing that the Slytherin was right in his presumputation; he was thinking of Harry constantly, his stomach knotting with something akin to anticipation. Yet he couldn't identify his feelings, only he knew that he needed to get to the bottom of it, and if his renowned enemy knew the answers, he would willingly comply.   
  
"Dismissed." Snape simply stated, not sparing a glance to those students that were startled out of their thoughts, yet his eyes sought out Hermione from the crowd, beckoning her over. She rose, hesitantly at first, her mind in turmoil. Harry had shunned every professor around him, had Snape felt remorse at this? "Give this to Potter. It will help him, he knows."  
  
She merely nodded. So. That's what it was. Snape was wracked with guilt, Harry also being on his mind; a far cry from the help that he had needed for what had occurred the summer passed, yet trying to console his mind now. It was strangely pathetic to watch her professor grope for some resolve from his current mind affliction. She watched him through amused eyes, preferably casting a spell upon him to remain in pain for longer, knowing his experience would hardly merit to half of what Harry had known and went through.  
  
Draco and Blaise awaited her and Ron outside the classroom, directing them to follow with a mere look down the hall. They walked over the stones of the ground, through several corridor's and down many flights of stairs before walking to a small hall Hermione hadn't known existed. It was black, no light strong enough to pierce through it's course ebony shadow, hiding it from any eye grazing over it. Here Draco halted while Blaise continued on, soon lost to Hermione's eye in the dark of his surroundings.  
  
"You're here, because Harry is here." Draco waved his hand carelessly, indicating that Harry was through the shadows that Blaise had ventured forth into. "Blaise and I have felt him for a few days now, his presence constantly pulling at our minds and bodies. And now you've felt it too."  
  
"Why do you feel him?" Ron looked Draco in the eyes, his curiosity and annoyance getting the better of him. How could Harry reach out to anyone but himself and Hermione? Draco of all to be held, the one who could ruin him at any moment; his wrath too heavy a burden for Harry to handle.   
  
"Because I was there. I was there the day Harry reached into every heart and mind around him. You both were too far from his reach, but I know you've heard about it now. That was Harry." He nodded when Hermione gasped and Ron's eyes widened. So they had both heard of the mystery of Diagon Alley. So much the better. He had no want of catering to their ignorance, presently happy that they needed no explanation. "Blaise and I were both there, Harry somehow identifying us amongst the crowd. We've binded ourselves to him."  
  
Ron turned a deathly white, his body trembling with anger. "You did what?" he demanded to Draco; him being none the surprised from this outburst.  
  
"Binded. Ourselves to him. I'll have you know that no longer will I bow to Voldemort, but to my Harry." Draco's eyes softened and he turned his head to peer into the dark. A small yet well hidden smile graced his features momentarily, expressing his loss of hate for Hermione and Ron's friend.  
  
"Your...Harry?" Ron sagged to the floor, his mind flooded with thoughts. So he was to be comrades with the one person he despised most, have to enjoy their little affair for Harry's behalf; a person whom he realized he would gladly die for. Catching Draco's look, he found his thoughts to be not only his own, but shared amongst the hall's persons. All of them. They all would do anything for Harry, their leader. He let a chuckle float from his lips, breaking through the air caught with tension and to the ears of Hermione and Draco.  
  
Blaise entered into the hall unexpectedly, drawing a gasp from Hermione, herself startled by his appearance. He smiled to them, drawing Hermione's hand in his own and bringing her into the dark. She held back gently, unsure if she was comfortable as she could be with Blaise, but thought naught on the subject when he halted in front of a portrait. Draco followed absently behind, a smirk implanted on his face, features light instead of troubled, yet unsure if he should remain happy when he met the man of his thoughts. Harry had drawn him and Blaise here, crying for something in their heads; hastening Draco and Blaise through Potions Class and in search of his hideaway. He was sure it was behind this portrait, yet knew not how to enter.  
  
Eadem revealed himself to Hermione and Ron, coming out of Draco's robe and looking into the eyes of the portrait's snake. He locked eyes for moments, years, what felt like eternity, before hissing out a lone syllable, the painting swinging open. The four hastened inside, then reeled in the energy contained within the small room. Harry stood in the center, his eyes ablaze, his hands covered in fresh blood which could only be his own. He stared past his friends, his eyes unfocused and troubled, not those to which belong to Harry Potter; insane. Blood flowed down his body from hundreds of wounds he inflicted upon himself; his nails tearing at his flesh, trying to grasp bone; not knowing what they did, yet carrying out their owner's orders.  
  
Blaise threw himself at Harry only to be caught in a web, halted in his movements, unable to free himself. Ron grasped the back of his robe and pulled, Blaise easily slipping out of the spell Harry erected, falling into Ron's arms. They looked to Hermione who stood staring at Harry, a frown graced her features, her eyebrow drawn in concentration. She noticed Draco make his way to Harry, but pulled at his arm, stopping him from walking into the trap she couldn't see. It wasn't right. They couldn't get in. Harry had them watch from a distance as he killed himself piece by piece. Eadem caught her attention as he lifted himself in the air, balanced on Draco's shoulder; intent on seeing the spells which Harry used to banish them.  
  
Without a seconds pause, Hermione grabbed at Eadem, not caring that he snapped at her exposed arm; throwing him with all her might into the barrier holding them from Harry. As she thought, Eadem passed right through and hit the ground beside Harry.  
  
"Stop him! Somehow!" Hermione hoped that sound also wasn't stopped from entering; sighing in relief when Eadem wrapped himself around Harry's right arm; it being outstretched and channeling magic to keep his shield intact. They all felt, rather than saw, the shield around Harry fall, breaking against the ground, shattering into millions of tiny pieces and imbedding itself into their flesh as glass would to their soft bodies. Blaise rushed to Harry's side, followed by Draco and Ron; all striving to halt his wandering hands that tore through his clothes and skin; demons sick on the smell of blood, their senses hunting for the thrill of killing and the dead.  
  
Harry struggled against his binds his eyes flicking back and forth amongst the ghosts that plagued him, not understanding why they stopped him if they were the ones that encouraged it all along. "It's too weak!! Too weak! Leave me...take my whole and leave..." he begged. "Free me.."  
  
His body shuddered and rocked, not capable of throwing Blaise, Ron, Draco, and Hermione off of it, tremors flying through his muscles, too soon and quickly to stop their usage, cramping with the suddenness of it all. Trying he did not succeed. His body cooled somewhat, the sweat and blood mingling together, fingerings quivering, tearing at nothing. With one last hope, his body gyrated, hips lifting off the ground, trying to shake off his binding, only to be held still did it drop to the floor, defeated.  
  
They four looked to Harry's face, hoping his eyes would clear, which they did after several seconds. The fog that captured him lingered somewhat, not ready to release it's hold on Harry's troubled mind. For the first time since he was left alone in his room, Harry was finally able to see his surroundings. The faces of his companions at breakfast greeted him, though he could not recall their names but felt an immense pain cease his heart when looking upon their battered faces, bodies covered in small cuts where his spell had struck them. Silver, Black, Brown and Hazel eyes looked to him sadly, causing his grief to rise up, guilt clenching his heart knowing he caused them such pain.  
  
Several minutes went by as Harry's ragged breath slowed to smooth intakes of air. No words were spoken as a single ichor left his eyes, fierce red in color, dripping from the oval opening above, the first and promised last of it's kind dripped down his cheek, blending with the blood covering his face from his self-inflicted wounds. Blaise and Ron elevated Harry from the stained carpet he lay upon; no protest of any kind rendering their journey impossible, Harry's onus a thousand weights on his frame, his mind dying inside. Quickly they pulled Harry's clothes from his body; his seemingly cadaver frame slumped over, not helping, not hindering. The cloak they peeled off slowly, it's weight dampened by the blood soaked tinge upon it, firmly latching to his side, the consequences of it's loss know to only Eadem. Try as he might, the humans chose to ignore him, successfully after much struggle, taking the cloak from Harry's shoulder.  
  
Onyx feathers rose to the air, battered and worldly broken as their bearer's mind, dropping to Harry's side lacking all the grace an Angel's death could bring. For centuries of thoughts to carouse their brains the four stood in shock, believing their sight to have failed them after so long, understanding hard to come as they looked upon the charcoal extremities, so long kept from their eyes, their concealment now shattered. Hermione openly wept; sight not needed as she now truly saw, truly understood the pain Harry had kept at bay; finally grasping what her senses were dulled to. She sat by his side, gathering his limp body into her arms, cradling him against her chest as a loving mother to a child, fearing that letting go would loose all.  
  
Harry's eyes fluttered open at the warm contact, his fingers though shaking with suppressed emotion clenched to her robe, the need of contiguity filling his mind. "Please..." he whispered, not raising his head yet burying it farther into her body. "Please remind me...." he gently lifted his face to look into her eyes. "Speak what thou once said to me. Save me..."  
  
Hermione's sob echoed in the room; it filled with sadness incomprehensible to those in it, such sorrow filling their hearts; the light so far from reach, the dark offering it's comfort of everlasting rest and peace. "I love you...I love you, Harry. Don't leave me. Don't leave us..."  
  
"Us.." he repeated, unsure of himself.  
  
"Yes, us." Ron sat by Harry's leg, his hand dropping to rest lightly against the broken skin; trying to express his own love by the simple motion. The others gathering as close as they dare to Harry, reaching their hands to delicately come in contact with his body, hoping against all doubts in their hearts that he would hear their song, see their love, feel the faint magic run against his body, soothing him.  
  
"Us." Harry smiled faintly before his eyes drifted closed, a soft breath leaving his mouth as his body relaxed under their tender embrace; finally free. "Saved me..." and he slept. Night and day meant no difference to his wondering soul; his spirit encountering those worlds he only dreamed of being part of, the serene lands grasping the remaining wisps of hatred from his being, letting them blow peacefully in the wind till they were stripped of their desires and returned to him whole and complete, his emotions at long last free from taint. Though they fought for hundreds of years upon the hill over looking the ocean, his saviors, his specters, could no more free his heart then they could take his winged curse away from him. He cried mortal tears; his bounds coming undone after such pain staking measures of being built, tearing away from his mind, his defiled soul tearing away from his body. They left him then, venturing back to whence they came, taking his dreams away, leaving him in his own worldly empyrean, his choice alone to return to those who love him; or walk the winding stairs to the unknown, leaving all behind.  
  
Harry blinked up into the night sky, covers pulled tight around his body, heat from his lit fireplace warming his once frozen bones. Eadem lay by his head, face pressed gently against his shoulder. Hermione rested at his feet, sleep over taking her exhausted body as she lay upon Harry's bed studying. He turned his head to gaze about the rest of his room, not remembering how he came to be so comfortable after his Sendings left him, just then realizing Draco asleep on his couch, Blaise curled on the floor and Ron at his desk. How had they come to be in his dwelling? Hardly by chance? He shifted slightly, legs gone numb from their prone position, mistakenly nudging Hermione who awoke at once, looking about for the source of the intrusion into her dreams. Her eyes connected with Harry's sleep filled ones for seconds before a smile spread about her face. She slipped off his bed, walking to rouse Draco, leaving the others to him.  
  
She sat by his side, leaning over him and brushing some bangs from his face, his unbound hair spread about the pillow in ebony waves. Draco quietly walked to the bed, leaning against one of the bedposts, a smile grazing his face, bags under his eyes. Hermione slipped a hand behind his head, leaning is back under her gentile ministrations. She spoke softly to him, his eyes asking questions his mouth couldn't form. Slowly, to show him what was going on, Hermione lifted a vial from her pocket, holding it in the light so that Harry may make out it's violet translucent color, swirling at the bottom of the vial, shining off the light reflected into it.  
  
Draco unstopped it, letting Hermione hold Harry's head at the proper angle whilst he administered the potion. Not once did Harry struggle among their workings, submitting himself to those who seemed to care, not worried for once whether he would live to see the next sun rise; the potion be his doom. In small amounts did Draco pour the potion into Harry's slightly opened mouth, letting him swallow before any more came. Once all of the potion was gone, Hermione rested Harry's head against the pillow, it swarming around his weight, a comfort around him. His eyes slowly drifted close, the potion working to it's full effect, sending Harry to a dreamless sleep while he recovered from the previous night's tidings.  
  
For Hermione, Draco, Ron and Blaise had yet to leave Harry's chambers, a full day of school taunting them to leave and learn; Hermione herself adamant about staying by Harry's side. No food reached their hunger driven stomach's, Dumbledore's knowledge of the room still unknown, and they craved a morsel of nourishment to replenish their energy. Ron was woken by Draco, Blaise still sleeping contentedly on the floor, the radiance of the fire a blanket enough to keep him warm. Once his eyes sweeped his surroundings, Ron felt the pang of an empty stomach and arose to his feet. He nodded to Draco, then signaled to Hermione he was to leave and be back soon. She understood immediately, motioning Ron to bring enough food to last them more days, enough until Harry was fully recovered.  
  
Hermione's eyes saddened as she took on her friend's form. Harry was weak, his body too small, bones protruding from his sides. It had a heavenly glow, blue from the workings of the potion, but Hermione knew that once it was finished, Harry's skin would turn a sickly white, death creeping upon his frame. She had seen it, when they had cleaned Harry's wounds. He was dying. Draco had denied it when she spoke to him, his eyes betraying the pleadings of his mind.  
  
Their Harry was dying, and they couldn't save him. From what they witnessed earlier, Hermione came to the conclusion that he was warring against himself, his mind too strong for his body to control, loosing life as Harry lost himself to his emptiness. His fight was his own, and he would no more win than live forever.  
  
Where once was Harry, a golden orb amongst his chest, now was darkness. Where once was love, Harry had forsaken it to rid himself of such frailties; Voldemort the only consistency he reached out to anymore. Voldemort who he was sworn to defeat, slowly killing him. Voldemort who devastated Harry by the mere obsession and consistency in his mind. How long until Harry's body couldn't last anymore? Before his power was gone, wasted in the wind; until his wings no longer stretched amongst the clouds, moon kissed in flight?   
  
They had all spend hours researching any ways to save him. Inevitable, it was, when they found no answer, no consolation to their tidings. Harry's Guardian Magic was dying, his body following behind, and soon his mind. Such pain he experienced, day and night, agonizing in the slow lacerations made upon his soul, his life slipping through his fingers. And Harry had given up. He hadn't come to them! Hadn't searched with his friends for a way to live: seeking death and eternal sleep. Counting only that he would last until the defeat of his foe.  
  
A tear streamed down Hermione's cheek; a diamond shining among the carnage of the tide....counting only that he would last until his mind overcame his all.  
  
BOUNDS OF MORTALITY  
  
Tis the night I speak to.. tis the dreams I ask.  
  
Forlorn in my own reality seeking that which is another.  
  
For time is of the essence and dreams of nothing.  
  
Where do time space and dreams come to converge.  
  
That is the heaven I seek and the hell which keeps me here.  
  
Reality is a shapeless void coused to being by us. All things are  
  
possible. Tis not raw reality that stops us from acheiving that which we  
  
want. It is the reality that someone else has that fights against us.  
  
So tis to be said that if we are strong of will perhaps we may overcome  
  
want. It is the reality that someone else has that fights against us.  
  
So tis to be said that if we are strong of will perhaps we may overcome  
  
our bounds of mortality and rigid self.  
  
For we are the dreamers.  
  
For we are the makers.  
  
For we are the gods. 


	5. Of Time Long Lost

Warnings: Harry Potter and Crew belong to J.K. Rowling, I make no profit  
  
Some of the writing may come out disfigured, I apologize  
  
I do not own the poem at the end, or Shakespeare's writing  
  
Also, I do not have a Beta Reader for this, so I'm sorry if there are mistakes. If you find some, please tell me in your review.  
  
~Chapters will be coming out once a week, every Monday, unless my muse fails me and it takes a bit longer.~  
  
Sorry for the delay on getting this out, I had horrible writer's block.  
  
/Denotes Harry's dream-vision/  
  
***  
  
Cedric: I know many people who would disagree with you. Mainly all of my English teachers! I think I've just discovered this new style of writing for myself, and I'm trying to get this story out as fast as I can, because I'm pretty afraid that it's going to up and leave on my soon, and I'll go back to writing like crap. ^^;; As you can see, I've got full confidence in myself.  
  
striped_jaguar: Hah! Stripes is contridicting what you said previously! "Kill Harry for all I care" or something along those lines..well. Your wish is my command......Dont die of a heart attack just yet! He's not dead, eh? And he's not going to die...yet...maybe...mwaha. Is this one of those asop fables on be careful what you wish for?  
  
Stripes is thanked for commending Remii, who is happy that she has a bipolar fan. Hehe. Bipolar. Remii would like Stripes to know that she has just twisted the story around and brought something into it that can change it..or not. Stripes will probably be utterly confused..but Remii hopes not.  
  
Harry's magic is awesome, no? Powerful Harry! POWERFUL! I like power..and it's written in the books like he doesnt have much..so I had to change that bit.. I didn't want to...but I decided to do tell you anyways, that Remii can draw. Remii is a damn good artist if she can say so herself. Maybe she will grace her reviewers with a picture of Harry if they reach a certain amount of reviews? [large amount..I'm picky] How large, what say you?  
  
Correct in the 'loosing' 'losing' thing. I hate missing small spelling details like that. I'll try and correct it as soon as I get a chance. [Remii is indeed a North American. Hooyah!]  
  
Remii would also like to appoligize if you didnt really understand that sentence..everything makes more understanding in my mind than it probably does in yours ^^;;  
  
Swooning! I'm waiting for the day that I swoon.. :[  
  
I hate fights between houses! And I'm hoping that Rowling will bring the houses together somehow in the end...grrar... So I always must have friends among houses. And Draco's great, and Blaise you can do anything with. What more could you ask for?  
  
Harry goes through pain 24/7!! And Snapes cool, even though he's an ass.  
  
Sorry this took so long to load today, but I didnt finish writing it until 9:37 exactly, I had major writers block since I stupidly concluded the last chapter so finally. Damn me.  
  
*HUGZ BACK*  
  
Voldie's ass is grass and Harry's the lawnmower!!  
  
crater212: Sorry if it unnerved you! I guess I should write in the summary that it's dark...more specifically? ^^;; Its not that Eadem knows Shakespeare..he doesnt really..er..exhist in their world [or so I say], but I like Shakespeare and think he has some amazing quotes..so it's really Eadem saying them without any outward unfluences, even if I got them from Shakespeare.  
  
Rayne-Jelly: I'm glad you liked it! I'm a bit confused by purple? I hope to explain everything more clearly as it goes along..and confuse you more...but hopefully you'll stick by and check it out. If at the end..you ask WHY? WHAT? HUH? You can hit me over the head with a stick, k?  
  
Rayne-Jelly: I'm a big fan of old writing, using metaphors and analogies. I know there are lots of people out there who hate writing like that, but I can't help it, it intrigues me, and I love trying to match my writing like that. I'm sorry if you feel it cheapens the work, but for me, I feel like it opens me up and brings me into a different time. I dont really know if I'm imitating Shakespeare, mostly because he doesnt bring the outside of his plays into them, leaving the reader to create their own scenery or gestures. All he really tells us is the speaking, and I love that he makes one imagine the rest. I just happened to think you guys deserve a bit more than your imagination should have to work at. I didn't realize it became tedious, but it's really part of the story, inbedded in it, and though I could change it, the whole story would change dramatically, and for the worse, I think. I've always tried to write using unusually vocabulary and wording, but for this story, I really havent used a thesaurus much, but since you pointed it out, I'll try to stop using odd words. I use only the knowledge I have, and if I really need something more, I dont see how theres anything wrong with finding it for a change? I'm happy that you like it though, regardless if you find it not quite your cup of tea. I'm a freak about spelling mistakes! When I read other fanfiction and find mistakes..I go haywire. It's not that hard to proof read your story, right? And people who read it and like it should be given the best, not the minimum. Thats why I appreciate it if people tell me where I have done wrong. Keep reading. Enjoy.  
  
***  
  
Chapter Five: Of Time Long Lost  
  
Æternus Noctem  
  
Harry stood among the gentle waves of the lake, the water wrapping itself around his body, closing in on his frame and trapping him within it's grasp. He stood beneath the starlit sky, the moon a torrent of darkness unable to breach his heavy heart. He had locked the others in his room; those he could not remember. There faces were memories trapped forever in the forgotten realms of his mind, not unlocked and not revealed, just out of reach. He had known them once upon a time long lost, where battles were fought amongst enemies and foes: troubles he saw during night when he could not distract himself.  
  
For he felt a calling, unreachable from his grasp, but ever-present in his ear, his mind. Beckoning him to rid this shell he lived in, this life that played before his eyes. Called him into a world he could only remember from a different life. Had he fought so? Along side those that cared for him now? Were they too, part of his past that he could not recall?  
  
For he was Harry Potter, was he not? He knew all too well his destiny and fate, the doings of Gods he could not undo. But what part had those humans played? Frustrated and despondent, Harry stepped further into the lake, the cold water greedily holding to his shaking frame. But he was not cold. Harry could not feel the chill that bit at his bones as he walked until his waist was in the water. The black, unclear water.  
  
Just like his memories of those in his room. So familiar, yet not. The woman who smiled at him- he knew her well. She had an aura of a guider, leading him through his childhood, yet that was not possible. His parents were gone, Voldemort's doings. So why had he the need for her to smile at him again, hold him in his arms? Why did the name Lady Helkaoreiel burn so brightly in his mind? Why did the one Eadem called Dragon, with gray eyes, call to him as Maegcair? Surely he didn't know anyone by the name of Helkaoreiel and Maegcair?  
  
"And here I stand. Born; the answers slowly failing from my grasp as I grew, learned, taught. And still, I wait here in the silent lies of the wind, the questions failing from my grasp as I wither, sink, die. Are you to know the answers? Or shall my questions lead me nowhere..."  
  
Harry stretched his wings out, head falling back to stare into the night above. The silver moon casting it's light upon his frame, basking him in it's eternal sorrow. For it could not help Harry; no one could. The cloth of dark that had encased his body, now encased his heart. That small amount of darkness that couldn't be stolen away no matter how help tried to wretch it from his being. It was his sad fate, he knew, to truly free himself. And yet he could not place that burden upon himself right now. Regardless if he saw it seeping into the place that no one but he could change, forming the contours of his heart.  
  
Harry reached his fingers to his cheek, eyes open in shock. Never before had he cried from sorrow; and yet here he stood among nature, horrid red tears streaming from his eyes, hoping to rid himself of the sorrow that still held him. How long? How long until he was free, until he could heal fully? For that potion had opened his wounds anew, healing them with magic, slowly and surely. Twice had he aggravated his new markings, twice had he created lacerations upon the very skin in which his tattoos adjourned. His victims were crying in blood, their tears a heavy weight he wanted to strip himself of. It was unfair, unjust that he may walk this eternal plane with not only himself, but all those around him also.  
  
But he could not seek the help he needed. Could not open himself to those who were staying with him. Lady Helkaoreiel....  
  
Small rain drops fell from the sky, the Lady of the Moon, such as she could, such a powerful being as herself, felt his call of despair. And yet she did no more than mourn for the loss of his soul, and yet he could do no more then stand, hypnotized by her, her silver dress stark against the cold night surrounding her, giving live to answers she could not voice. No. She would not answer him. She would not help.  
  
They were similar; Harry and the Lady of the Night. Her being an utter void in the sky, her's not the right to bestow upon such a one as he the gift of knowledge. And he, damned to live the life of servitude, so different among the same all around him, yet so small when compared with the rest. Yet she willingly cried for his grief, and Harry could do no more for her then catch her essence in his palm, memorizing their pale blue shimmer, how they glittered even so sad as they were. How they gave him no reassurance that he would survive to know all.  
  
Harry took one last look to the night above, tilting his body back until he plunged into the water beneath him, letting his breath out as he fell backwards into the black hole. No lake creature was there to help him; no being shedding their own needs to save him; letting him float farther and farther down into the dark of the lake. For who would save him when he sought death? His end?  
  
The lake was a never ending spiral towards the dark emptiness Harry sought. As he continued to plunge downwards, the world around him grew so clear. Never before had his thoughts come to him in such a way: never before had he been able to see the magic forming around the very waves of the water. The very threads of magic enlaced in their strands. All around him glowed bright, so strong a light that Harry shielded his arm over his eyes from the white that surrounded him. It was a swirling tangle of sprites; faeries trapped in miniscule threads, braced against and forming the very essence of plants and water. For Harry now saw the spirit of magic encased in every form.  
  
All sound dissipated, silence reigning as he held his hand in front of his hand, eyes wide as he saw nothing but the millions of white particles laced within his flesh. Awestruck and unsure of himself, Harry lifted his arms to guide him back to the surface; wings propelling him forwards in the water to break it's boundaries. Gasping he broke through the fingers that clung to his heavy robes, half running half failing in his steps to get to the shore. Once feeling the sand beneath his feet, Harry dropped to the ground and looked about him. Everywhere was lit with the ghostly white strands, blazing in his eyes. He blinked back tears, the white so overwhelming as to give him the need to shield his sight from harm.  
  
He didn't understand. Why had this happened? Why, suddenly, was he able to see the very fibers of magic that enveloped the grounds of Hogwarts? A shock wave of pain laced through his head, and Harry thought no more of magic and the phantasm of his new sight. He struggled to his feet, calling with all haste to his Sendings, hoping they would arrive to heed his calls before he could no longer voice his requests. And thankful was he when they appeared by his side, seemingly there all along, shielded from his view. Without any further directions, they gathered his tense form within their arms and crossed the grounds of Hogwarts, entering into the corridors that lead to his room. Harry struggled against their hold, damned that he would let them carry him to his room without his help. Again flashes of green glazed over his sight, black creeping at the boundaries of his vision, fighting against his will to stay alert. And yet, fighting as he may, Harry was once again whisked off into the world he could not remember, falling limp in the arms of his magiced Sendings.  
  
/The girl whose name Harry could not recall walked to stand in front of him: his dream like a reality. Before his eyes, in the dark of the room he lay bound in, three more figures appeared from behind the fog's concealment, revealing themselves to be the others he should know. He went to turn from her, her eyes boring into his own; realizations that he could not leave her swarming his conscious. But they did not stay to help him. No. They too disappeared into the gray haze, calling softly for him to follow; his body moving without his command. For those he knew now, once had been the minds that led the Elven Race against the onslot of the coarse Dark's. The Dark Lords of old were shunned by their light, their fight the one that gave birth to Harry. Hundred years fold, and still the souls of those who fought the war of the Ages of Old, battle the evil in this time. How long they would stir was untold, yet though he knew not how, Harry recognized the leaders of his born time. The brunette, she was the Lady Helkaoreiel, brilliant in tactics, yet her downfall the love she possessed, and Harry could see the fierce brain of the once Priestess trying to prevail against the soul of the girl, Hermione, it was trapped in. Her love had lead her astray in the night, into the lands of the Dead and Ever Watchful, seizing her live in their grasp and wringing it until she was no more a devoted worshipper of her God, but a drawn puppet, an empty shell.  
  
The Dragon Maegcair was fighting against the Golden Dragon, once enemy of Harry in his innocent childhood times. His was closest to winning against the new soul, their minds too alike for them to be separate for long. Yet the Gods feared for this binding, for Maegcair's hate was great, and the Dragon was still too innocent to take on the burden of Blood Lust that Maegcair's soul possessed. Maegcair was the last to die during the Final Battle, yet drove his sword into the enemy's leader did he, yet kill him did he not. Tidings were not all well for war, for if Maegcair awoke, Harry would be pulled into a world of greater darkness and fear. But just a moment, how Fate tried not to think of it, Maegcair would free Harry. He, himself would grow out of the dark that threatened to spill from his heart, a new life of love blossoming forth to replace all. But as beautiful as all could see it being, Harry deserved not to fall into a greater web. For once the war was over, Maegcair's soul would rest forever, him gone from Harry's life, the darkness rising to completely overwhelm him.  
  
Yet how simple it seemed to let these Ancients control the bodies of the new, for they would quickly strike against Voldemort for once and for all, ridding the world of his reign. Yet it could not be so. For that was their downfall before, their haste and malice too great to control, their darkness rising for all to feed upon...  
  
The first to die during the Ascafalas Reign was Brilhen the Rememberancer. He was strong in spirit, prevailing against the treachery around him, his sword shining against the evils it was to cut down. And yet, his loss of love was too much to bear. His wife, his everything, and Lady Vethule, caught by the Lords' powers, was hung high above the Castle of the Pure for all to see what would become of them, brought sorrow into his once joyful heart. The darkness fed into him from then on, finally driving Brilhen insane with revenge, his blind fury easily put down by the powers at large. So much did was feared for the boy named Blaise, for he carried within him a sorrow he could not understand, his life thus far complete.  
  
Yet, last of all, was the one Culram, who the Gods watched with a weary eye. His jealousy of the Lady Helkaoreiel's love for another spurred him into a short lived battle against his own and the enemy, his downfall the doom of them all. For Culram's temper was a legend to be known, his heritage of the Berserkers, a great advantage to their battle. His people killed mercilessly, his family grand in size and strength, yet out-casted in the eyes of the humans. For when he turned upon those around him after the Lady Helkaoreiel's death, so did his people turn upon themselves in their confusion of loyalties, decimating his clan into the wind. Ronald Weasley was under strict watch of all who had eyes not seen in his plane, who feared more for Culram to overtake Ron and shine forth, more than they feared for the coming of Maegcair.  
  
Their battle had been the longest, yet they did not win. The evil that did cradle the world shot them down, killing their defenses until long last the four strong stood together; for Lady Helkaoreiel gave her wandering spirit to he who loved her, Culram, freeing his spirit from the burden of her loss. But her's did not heed help in the end. For she was dead, and could no longer use her power to strike against the enemy, having no strength. Culram felt it in his heart, yet he carried her with him to the very ends of his sanity, his Berserker memories showing her by his side. Brilhen was killed instantly, for he rushed head strong into the whirling winds of the evil's defenses, alone not able to fight, not united capable of bringing ruin to all. His spirit joined with those of Culram and Helkaoreiel, the three uniting themselves into a solid sphere to be wielded by Maegcair. He, who brought the songs and legends upon himself in his great heroics, fought for six days and five nights with the enemy, destroying their forces with the power of his friends in his hand. But little too late did they learn to unite themselves, and they could no longer win this battle than start over. For on the morning of the sixth day, the sun rose golden in the horizon; basking the world in light it had not seen for years. The dark fled to the caves and mines, the light hindering their souls, feeding off the shadows that lurked in their beings. In the end it was only the Dark Lords and Maegcair left. His instrument of work, the souls of his friend, was long gone, broken upon the very ground that he tread. Raised his sword to the sky did he, calling out his final battle cry, he launched himself upon the Great Leader, the lesser gods flying into the woods from his wrath. And such did the Dark Lord Helkahir stand alone among the battle field fighting Maegcair, and winning. For at the very last second, when all seemed lost and the Dark Lord struck Maegcair a deadly blow, the sun reflected off Maegcair's loyal sword, blinding the shadow eyes of Helkahir, giving strength to Maegcair to rise up and strike the Lord, before his body died and fell to the ground forever.  
  
Yet over was it not. For all his strength, Maegcair did not kill Helkahir's spirit, only his body. And over the centuries did it fester in the dark, all seemingly lost to it's power until only fifty years ago was a child born from such a broken god forsaken womb dark enough to hold his spirit. Into the child he did go, living the boy's life until he was strong enough to conquer all, shedding the false skin of the human and making himself known. For what was once Tom Riddle, Helkahir now did rise. For he himself could not be known. And so, when all was peaceful within his changed world, Helkahir chose to rise again, known to those who dread, as Lord Voldemort.../  
  
Harry awoke upon his bed, obscure vision gazing into the sky encrypted on his ceiling. For the second time in such a short length passed was he once again naked and in the safe haven of his bed. Around him swarmed the four of his present, past, and future, caring for him since he was left outside the painting; only then letting them open the door. He was not asleep for long, only until the tidings of his dream and foresight were passed and imprinted into his mind.  
  
Lady Helkaoreiel...Hermione..  
  
The Dragon Maegcair...Draco..  
  
Culram...Ron..  
  
Brilhen...Blaise..  
  
What did it all mean? Harry turned to his side, away from the worried faces that looked upon him. He was confused, so confused. Was this Vision that which had been calling him to remember? That, his memories of old? But how had he known such tidings had come to pass? For he was not born until recently, regardless of his newest stature, and friends. Be as it may that they were parts to people from long ago, Harry had no part in that war, his time was now. Was it a necessity for him to know that these Ancients resided in the ones loyal to him now? Were they there to help him in the Final Battle? Would he never be free of them?  
  
"Harry?" Hermione called. She had seen his eyes gaze lifelessly at the canopy above him, had seen him shudder under their close standings, had turned away from them. Surely he would tell them what happened? Why he was soaked and shivering? Why he was suddenly dropped outside of his room by hands they could not see? "Harry, what happened? Did you see anything?" For Hermione had listened very carefully to the words he whispered in his dreams. She knew he was having a Vision of some sorts, though it did not pain him.  
  
"Foretell- I cannot bare such bitter sweet, as a harmonious violin weeps to her dying love, I will no more search for your truth...than known my own demise." Harry turned his head to gaze remorsefully into the eyes of Hermione. He understood what she asked of him. To entrust his secrets to her. Take his burden away. But he could not. Not with the information he now possessed. "Lady Helkaoreiel.." He reached his arm to her and gently ran his fingers along the soft skin of the young girl who's spirit was that of a warrior. How were they to be? so similar and yet so different?  
  
"Lady..Helkoareiel?" Hermione looked to Draco for guidance. Beside her, he stood, eye's burning with a hidden fire that roared to life at the mention of that name. He ignored her curious gaze, but the fire in his eyes quickly disappeared, and he turned to Hermione confused, not understanding who the Lady may be. "Is she in trouble Harry? Does she need our help?"  
  
Harry let out a dry laugh, coarse against his unused throat. "Help. She needing of my help, when I can no longer help myself? Yet you ask me to help her? You need no help, Hermione! Don't ask more of me, for I am afraid to tell you of what I know. Afraid to let you know."  
  
"I don't understand, Harry. Tell me. Involve me!" Draco pulled Hermione from Harry's bedside, afraid for the glint that took over his leader's eyes. Afraid for Hermione. In that brief instant, that single moment of 'Lady Helkoareiel' being whispered from Harry's lips as his eyes flashed dangerously, delirious long enough for a ragged breath to be drawn; there was something wrong. Something inside him that stirred, his heart beat frantically as a first kiss experience, adrenaline rushing through his veins and pumping into his head. He felt a pull at his naval, traveling by floo standing by Harry's bed. For that brief amount of time, he was gone. The world had faded from sight and all he saw was his eyes dancing in his line of vision, eyes so like and different from his own; changing and yet remaining the same. Eyes identical to his own, but of another person. And then he was back. Begging himself not to loose his grip on reality, he had come back full force, jumping into his body and adjusting as if he had not grown up in it. But it hadn't really happened? Just a slight twist of his mind, wandering from his worries of Harry to something far from everything. Just a cold, perhaps? nothing of dire importance.  
  
"Let me go this instant. Something is wrong, I can feel it. I feel..." Hermione toppled where she was held in Draco's arms, feinting to the ground. Draco felt Hermione's forehead, then looked up into Harry's eyes, narrowed in suspicion, his hand held towards Hermione, still tinted green from the released spell. It was close..so close. He had felt Hermione drifting, something pulling at a part of him as Hermione struggled to figure out what Lady Helkoareiel had to do with Harry. With herself. He had been foolish, not thinking straight as he mentioned her chosen name, careful to avoid it if she brought it up again, which his spell hastened her to forget. He wasn't quite sure or understood everything he had just seen, but what he had felt was enough to convince himself not to dare utter the Priestess's name in her presence. If ever. For names were a strong incantation, and if just whispering her name tugged at her dormant spirit, he would not risk calling upon the dead leader for risk of loosing the girl Hermione.  
  
Life had just flipped over and resituated itself upon different grounds. When he finally understood his place in the world, his situation, his need to lead the people, it was ripped from his grasp, sending him whirling into the vortex of confusion and despair. For everything he had lived for, his pillar of strength, was broken before his eyes, stones falling to the ground to fall apart into dust, never to be rebuilt again. Such a torment as this to befall a mere human in one lifetime called for his rest of a thousand. And now this. Now it was to be revealed that he was connected to the Dark struggles of centuries before wizards were established into societies, before Purebloods caste all lowers out, before the society took on a human form, fooling themselves into thinking they were superior to mere fragile Muggles when they themselves took on the same roles of society. It was all so much. Was Lady Helkoareiel to be a burden upon his life? Another scar of a life he took, just so he may be born to save her after the lay dead? So much blood to be scattered to atone for deaths. So much blood he was loosing, his body forgoing to replenish, killing him slowly, surely.  
  
"I've not the answer."  
  
"Harry?" Ron looked to him, tense, watching the exchange between Harry and Hermione, Draco...  
  
"I search an answer...but I'm not another liar." Harry sat up in bed, looking between the people in his room. "Why have you stayed here? School..you have....to go.." Harry swayed in his bed, hands gripping the sheets tight between his fingers, vision fading as his last thoughts reprimanded himself for not guarding himself and letting his defenses fall. For letting a spell hit him.  
  
"Harry?" Ron caught his body as it fell, gently setting him down on the bed and careful not to let his skull hit the headboard. "What happened?" he turned to Blaise for answers, who looked to the open painting of the clock and snake, staring at the visitor in the doorway.  
  
"Gentlemen, and women," Dumbledore greeted, holding the painting open, his wand pointed at Harry and coming to rest at his side. For he would never admit it, but it had taken much of his strength to sedate Harry into a comatose state. Energy drained from him that would likely be pulled into Harry's weak body, temporarily giving his body the small amount of life force needed to sustain it until he was too insubstantial to work on it's own, taking energy directed towards it again, whether it be evil or good. And such dire necessities didn't last for long, and came at a price best not to find out. As Unicorn Blood would give life from death, so would stealing the fiber of potency take away from all it seemingly helped.  
  
"Dumbledore..but...how.." Blaise looked between the open door and the Headmasters, confusion evident on his face. They had all witnessed first hand how Harry had concealed himself from view and anyone finding him that he didn't want. Complicated spells that Hermione hadn't figured out how to remove, spells that Draco had seen in his father's books.  
  
"I'd be happy to escort you back to your house commonrooms, if you feel you cannot make it back there on your own. I need to speak with Harry for a small while." Dumbledore dismissed them, voice calm, eyes betraying his strict command, settling on Hermione, whom he had believed to be the perfect cooperative student once, now seeing that he had mistaken her for another from the past.  
  
They rose from their positions, Draco waking Hermione with a small charm, helping her up and walking her from the room, Blaise and Ron trailing reluctantly behind, the door slamming with such force as to make the red snake call out in anger of being jarred so. Blaise turned abruptly and pushed his hand against the painting that Draco had charmed to stay ajar no matter how forcefully closed, but it seemed that Dumbledore had been recounted with the charm and countered it, locking them from Harry; leaving him with Dumbledore. He cursed softly, recalling how the door easily opened for Eadem many times, and try as they might, the snake remained loyal to Harry and would not tell them the password, no matter how they begged. The snake that was with Harry in his room.  
  
Dumbledore looked about the old room the teachers of Hogwart's first years had used for Boggarts and the like in Defense Against the Dark Arts. The room had aged years faster than the rest of the building, once smooth gray stone turned coarse from dust and grime, jagged and disheartening to look at; yet making Hogwart's seem all the older and stronger. Stains adorned the walls, dried mold and cobwebs hanging from the star filled ceiling, floating just above his head, taunting him with worries of them falling upon him, dragging anything from the dark ceiling upon their decent. Harry had changed it from an abandoned room to one of a home, his belongings lined about the walls and ground, desk covered with papers no doubt belonging to one of the students that had locked themselves in here. He was hard to find, brushing off Dumbledore's location spells as if swatting away a fly; just an annoyance to be easily dealt with. He had even destroyed an ancient detection device passed down through the Headmasters at a time of importance, throwing it's power back into it and overloading the magic usage; shattering it without a thought to anything else.  
  
He walked to the glass table in the middle of the room, eyes grazing over the different books lined up; merely school texts and nothing more. Candles were lit, their golden flames casting shadows upon the covers, ghosts dancing along the bound papers. He reached down to lift one of Harry's own spell books from the floor, but found his hand unable to touch the book. Even with his subconscious at rest, Harry had still evoked a spell to preserve everything in his room from movement or harm until he lifted it, allowing any to wander with it.  
  
He stood silent as the student in the hall tried to pry the painting open, heard the snake's voice it's displeasure with the hustle of bodies against it's frame, bodies that sought to get back into the room of their friend, bodies that ignored his request.  
  
Eadem glanced at Dumbledore from beneath Harry's bed, unsure if it be wise to reveal himself to the aging wizard that had ordered the humans from the room and locked Harry in a spell. A powerful old wizard that would best not know he existed, increasing his chance of helping Harry to escape from his confines. Carefully, keeping to the dark floor corners and moving slowly as to not attract attention, Eadem moved to the exit, listening to the sounds of panic from outside. As he reached the door, he saw Dumbledore move to stand besides Harry, hand reaching down to hover above his elbow. It was too sudden for Eadem to register, and as he spoke the password to open the door, Dumbledore leaned his hand to touch Harry's arm, both disappearing as the four rushed into the room.  
  
OF TIME LONG LOST  
  
I tell a tale of time long lost  
  
ancient back before the earths's first frost  
  
afore winter dawned the genacide of magic  
  
oblierating the lore of fairy tales tragic  
  
When centaurs proud and noble warred  
  
with dragaons, reptillian, winged, inside fired  
  
weapons, slayers of Memnock, from hell sent forth  
  
feeding on pure, white, blessed right and anihilating all of holy worth  
  
Wherein draves did dwell gestating in the musky earth  
  
in riddled cities of gold, onyx, and bone, spanning a contenent's girth  
  
beneath savage gardens of lacivious, lavish, fragrant flowers  
  
wherein slumbered faries of gossamer, translucnet light with mythical powers  
  
dwelling under the original time gnarled tree of eternal oak  
  
watcher over man, mass encased, and horborer of the seat of hope  
  
shooting branches forth over ever vast expanses of towns afar  
  
encasing a soul Memnock cursed, love for him in the body of this tree forever barred  
  
so he conspires with the creatures so dwindled left of light  
  
scheeming to conguer, to survive the erupting grotesque creatures of eternal night  
  
being spewed forth from an oozing boil upon the land  
  
tools of sadistic, black, scourge demons of the evil lord's hand  
  
sluffing down into the gurgling gruel of dank bog  
  
itself wicked soaked till corrupt, now threatening clean waters to clog  
  
further chokeing off the distant chance of good as the victor  
  
the alpha foe through hoards corrupt alliance vieing to be hopes desecrator  
  
The armies are divided, well defined and true  
  
each growing in number and strength as the last decide which to commit to  
  
all the creatures of the land both large and small to the battle are joining  
  
there is no turning back, the line has been crossed, no time for warnings  
  
The army of right is smaller by far  
  
commanded by the bravest ancestor of the first centaur  
  
his troops hold all of his kind, some men, unicorns, faries, gnomes, elves, nymphs, and sprites  
  
the last winged horse, birds, dogs, a lone changeling, and the high priestess of light  
  
Memnock's evil hoards possess the rest  
  
led by a demon born of a long enslaved virgin under diress  
  
a bulging blight opon the earth of minataurs, hydras, dragons, Pan, Bacchi, ulf, and witches  
  
wolves, hyenas, trolls, and human headed canine bitches  
  
As the dawn's first light over the land shines  
  
the two in death grips met, upon each other striveing to commit the greater crime  
  
when it was all over only one stood and still remained  
  
every other creature died that day, the earth with their blood is still stained  
  
Under the mighty tree steadfastly dug in the dwarves as packs of ulf and wolf rained gnashing fangs  
  
couragously cunning were the shrunken warriors, but the pack too imense, encircling one alone in gangs  
  
until there was no more flesh from bone to tear  
  
and Pan cowardness from behind a rock let hiss through the sky did flare  
  
As it struck the massive trunk of the noble tree  
  
flames raged upward as if to claim heven with a firey key  
  
as the watchers soul flame licked roasted screamed  
  
the last of the centaurs fell to catapults hurling globs of molten tar, their skins off them seething  
  
Huge clouds of dust fogged the battle field  
  
and ragged cries of pain echoed up through hanging mists of blood as all manner of weapons they did wield  
  
swarms of flies soon gorged upon the mutalated corpses bloating in the heat  
  
as the evil one stood alone eating the flesh of the downtroden meek  
  
Now the battle is over, it's all said and done, we have only to look around to see who won  
  
the mythical creatures of time long past did forever their future in this battle loose  
  
but my fiend the war is just starting...  
  
which side do you choose?  
  
vix... rhonda enrayne (c) oct. 1997 


	6. Dreams and Nightmares

Warnings: Harry Potter and Crew belong to J.K. Rowling, I make no profit  
Some of the writing may come out disfigured, I apologize  
I do not own the poem at the end, or Shakespeare's writing  
Also, I do not have a Beta Reader for this, so I'm sorry if there are mistakes. If you find some, please tell me in your review.  
  
***Warning for this chapter: There is a bit of a graphic part of Seductive!Harry kissing himself [will be explained if you read], so if you don't want to read about a small makeout session between two parts of the same person, don't!  
  
  
~Chapters will be coming out once a week, every Monday, unless my muse fails me and it takes a bit longer.~   
  
  
***  
logan: The title is immortal night, the actual definition meaning Eternal Night, though the proper way to spell it is Noctem Acternus, but I hadn't known that at the time when I started the story. [But I like Æternus Noctem better anyways]  
  
Kimi-sama: Thanks! I think I get tangled up in my imagery too many times, and I just don't know how to express it in words properly. I wanted the memory of Harry's encounter of Voldemort to be vague, because it's all explained in this chapter. [Or at least so you know what happened] I always get my tenses confused. Urg! And no..I've looked..but I haven't gotten a beta. The one person I figured would be good decided not to reply after a few exchanges of emails, so I'm once again left without a beta. Demand is met!  
  
PheonixMan: Glad you love it! Hopefully you won't hate this chapter and still love it.  
  
fyre: More answers now! [and lots more questions!] You're so close with the killing curse..! But alas..not exactly correct..but still really really close.. Arg. And with the Hawk Spirit! You're practically answering your own questions. Nice! I think you'll be a bit mad, since Eadem isn't in this chapter at all...neither are Draco, Blaise, Hermione and Ron. ^^;; But Sirius is in it! Lol.  
Hm. Other Death Eaters. I hadn't thought of that. But why they would be inclined to side with the 'feeling' of Harry would make sense. [read chapter!] Hm. Can anything prevent Harry from dy---. Mwahaha. Well..the _new_ Harry doesn't have that problem..I'll tell you that now..but you might not like him that much. -evil laughter.-  
  
***  
  
  
Chapter Six: Dreams and Nightmares  
  
Æternus Noctem  
  
It was cold. Too cold to be of any comfort; yet idealistic in this state of being spelled. Magic: the one thing in the world that he had controlled was successfully used against him. How was he to continue on with life if the one thing that was spurred to action by his very thought, was now used against him? Had he not struggled through his solitude and everlasting dark, duels and deaths, when no one had been there? Had he not managed to use the one source he never grew up with to his every whim? So how? How had a simple spell been launched at him and successfully trapped his body? But not his mind. His captor knew him. Knew the intricate details of every spell to be able to hold his body, yet let his mind wander. He too was fluent in the ways of magic, perhaps, even saw it around him.   
And this discomforted Harry. For there was another being out there capable of understanding his weakness of his shields, the small opening in his magic threads which he had yet to master. Someone with almost as much talent as himself? Someone to not let him sleep.  
And it wasn't Voldemort. The fool. Power as much as he had, and a brain not to use it properly to it's full potential. He knew the last battle would be an immense struggle on his own, yet he knew he would win in the end. For Voldemort was clever, but not so much as he. For every day after his home was destroyed, Harry made sure he would win. That night that held so many troubles gave birth to a new entity; Voldemort's lack of magic control, warping the strands of life, his genes, his existence, to create the only creature that could ensure his downfall. And here this new essentia lay, in the fog of his mind, battling with his body and the fibers that held him still. For his eyes were useless to see about him, trapped as they were; and his arms useless to conjure a defense; his wings useless to carry him to shelter. He was trapped; jailed until he was released to gain the seldom knowledge of who brought him here.  
Dumbledore critically swept his eyes over the frozen body of his once beloved student. How things had gone wrong, he need not think about to know. They were deceived, all of them lead to believe Harry death; destroyed by Voldemort. And for his lies, Siruis Black would stand to rectify. During this time of war, how a trusted companion could lie to them all, under specific potions, was an incredible feat, one to be exploited, then set down. And Dumbledore would stand it no longer. This was his war, his to win and his to loose. So be it if he chose to use the life of the one boy that was prophesied to know the outcome; his mistake to take on. For now Harry Potter lay before him, mind in a torrent of thoughts, forced to face himself and move on. And Dumbledore knew. He followed his other students as they left their school rights to ignore the rules and stay as Harry's companions. He saw the thoughts of all of them as they cared for Harry, healing his body...but not his mind. For now it was all clear. Harry was tainted, fighting against the dark that was in him, consumed by the traces left by Voldemort when he entered into his body. For all was not well, and if Harry was not to face Voldemort in himself before he fought him outside, all would be lost.  
_Alkhuan...._  
Harry stepped through a window of his mind, passing through a door of immense beauty; gold leaves shining brilliantly as their vines curled about the passage Harry tread. For he left the safety of his sanity and continued down the long stairwell into the darkness below; what he sought, he didn't understand, yet he followed the voice tugging at his soul.  
_Alkhuan....  
_It was dark, so much that even his catlike eyesight helped naught in the absence of color. Water leaked down the sides of the tunnel, paths made from the long years of them streaming down the side of the course rock wall. Even the brilliance of the ivy could not longer pierce the dark, and the vines faded away to melt, oozing down the walls of poison. But Harry continued on, ignoring the hesitation he felt pulling in him; all his being but his heart wanting to flee back to whence he came from; his heart dragging him in his wandering direction. At last, though he knew not time, Harry's feet reached firm rock beneath, not jagged in the steps he once walked upon. And yet, though there was no knowing it, Harry walked a path he could not see; feet taking him where he knew not, yet felt the ground beneath him traveled many times before. Surely he had not made this journey?  
_Alkhuan...._  
Though filled with trepidation, Harry tried to halt his steps, but no longer found himself in control of his body. He was being pushed forward by a wind, blowing against his body fiercely, threatening to sweep him off his feet if he did not brace himself and continue on. Above him rose  
an arc of incredible height, stalactites braced as teeth, menacing and ominous in their dire to crush him as eating their prey. The wind shifted directions, blowing out from the mouth of the entrance, Harry being crushed between the warring forces of the wind blowing at his back and at his front.  
_Alkhuan...._  
He struggled through, knowing he had to pass between the duel of opposing breaths, knowing he had to continue on, that he had no choice. He stepped up onto a new layer of stone, completely straight with no bumps to trip him. Too easy was it to walk along the new passage, no howling wind to push him forward or restrain him. His route continued straight, walls becoming closer and more constricting as he continued on; no longer the wide hallway that he first entered into. The sound of rushing water met his ears, and Harry chanced a look backwards to see the dull white foam of a roaring ocean wave run to meet him. He willed his body to comply, and ran as fast as he could, hoping to avoid being carried away in the jaws of the green and yellow water, acid ready to burn away his flesh.  
_Alkhuan....  
_If he had known sooner, he would have saved his life by running at full speed, but be it as it may, the wave closed in on Harry, grasping him in it's clutches and carrying him away. Clothing burned off as if little more than wood in a fire. His skin scorched and scalding, a torrid of heat enveloping as the water rushed about his body, dragging him further down into the dark. But Harry reached his hands out, taking hold of the stalagmites that had broke bones as he was unceremoniously flung against them. He held with all his might, and the water continue heedlessly, spurred on without his body in it's hold.  
_Alkhuan....  
_He stood on shaky legs, unsure if they would hold him as he continued down his route. The calling in him grew stronger, a blazing dark blue in his head flaring to life as he drew closer to a giant hole in the ground; exactly where the water would have swept him had he not escaped it's clutched. Though no water was seen or heard, Harry knew that if he dropped down he would fall into a lake of the acid, too much to fend off, his bones burned away until not even his marrow was left. Yet no other path was seen, the cavern coming to a circle of stone, no way out except where he once was, or down. Scanning the ring around the outside, and carefully looking about him, Harry saw small, unsteady steps leading down into the vortex, his way of making it down.  
_Alkhuan....  
_Many steps gave way and crumbled under his weight, but Harry held firmly to the walls around him, slowly making his down into the pit of acid. Few steps beneath him he could make out a bridge over the water and hurridley left the hazard steps to walk onto the charred bridge. As his feet touched the ground, water leapt from the lake and erupted into a spiral of steaming fire, blocking his way across. Seconds went by as the fire finally gave out, giving Harry no time to think before two spirals on either side of the bridge shot out before him. They soon fell back down, and two more spirals took their place, five feet away from the previous ones. A pattern continued for the whole bridge to be engulfed with the paired spirals, before the pattern became chaotic, leading Harry to find out when it would begin again.  
_Alkhuan....  
_It was time, and after the first set came and left, Harry ran forward to stand right behind the second set, acid raining upon his body, enflaming the skin that was hit. He continued smoothly, making his way to the end of the bridge when the pattern spurred out of control before it was supposed to. Towers of water jetted into the air, their drops falling on Harry's abused body, before the walls collapsed onto him. His first reaction was to throw his arms over his head, but Harry knew better and dropped to the ground, arms and legs wrapping around the narrow bridge, holding on for his life as wave after wave crushed onto his body, hoping to throw off his hold and drag him into the lake. When it had finished unsuccessful in it's attempt, Harry weakly pushed himself up, weight braced on his unsteady arms, clothing all but gone except for the few ragged pieces stuck to his melted skin.  
_Alkhuan....  
_When the pattern started again, faster in it's attempt to reach Harry's forlorn body, he pushed his strength to the limit, throwing himself off of the bridge and onto the land of the other side. All about him was silent, the ground soft, and he felt his strength renewed, his body somehow released from the tense hold upon it. He lifted himself off the floor, walked steadily down the newest path, waiting for something to happen. Nothing. What felt like an eternity, when only a few minutes had gone by, Harry felt a shift in the ground; starting to tilt upwards. Soon he was on his hands and knees crawling up the hill, one slip would send him flung onto the ground far below, bones crushed upon impact.  
_Alkhuan....  
_It was all or nothing now. Harry was using his hands and legs to climb up the wall; the slight slant of the ground now curved completely vertical, a rock wall to be climbed for how ever long it took. Harry's right hand reached above him, searching for a crevice to hold onto, finding a ledge instead. Pushing his weight onto his feet, both hands grasped the ledge and hauled himself up onto it, body falling down and panting. The opening was small, too small for him to stand at anything but a bend, and Harry continued on his hands and knees. Flesh which quickly peeled open and bled from the pointed stone beneath him, left behind him was a trail of his life. Invisible hands grabbed at his skin, holding him back. Harry struggled against their hold, his beaten body tearing at their clutches.  
_Alkhuan....  
_The small enclosed trail opened into a grand cavern, torches lining the walls, making Harry shield his eyes from the stark change from dark to light. Chains and torches were secured about the room, all empty except right in front of him, a body sagged in it's hold against the wall, shadows hiding it from view.  
_Alkhuan...Alkhuan...  
_Harry took a torch from the wall, walking the great distance from the opening of the cave to the other side. The figure moved as he drew closer, struggling against it's bonds, trying to shield it's self from the harsh light of the flame.  
_Alkhuan....Alkhuan...Alkhuan....  
_Harry's light blew out, a chuckle falling upon his ears as he stood in front of himself, the being chained to the wall. He staggered back, confusion evident upon his face as he gazed into his own blood-red eyes, saw his own wings stretched out upon the captive's back.  
"Harry..." the creature purred, arching his chest out, hands trying to free himself from the metal that held them to the wall. It then sank to the floor, hands bound above it's head, legs stretched apart, looking to all like the wanton toy. "Harry...." it moaned his name.  
Harry couldn't take his eyes of the creature that resembled himself. He felt his soul and body stir as it purred his name from supple pink lips, tongue licking the parched lips, eyelashes fluttering seductively. And then it moaned his name...body as a temple offered for sacrifice. Harry's eyes glazed over as he took tentative steps toward the other being.  
_Alkhuan...Alkhuan...Alkhuan...ALKHUAN  
_"Yessss," the creature beckoned, swaying it's hips, tongue running over teeth and mouth. "Come to me Harry...."  
Harry came to stand in front of it, faces inches apart, identical in looks. Glazed eyes met lust filled ones, naked bodies, one battered, covered in black tattoos, and yet pale in contrast to the built tanned one. Harry shook his head, throwing off the spell that drew him close to the creature. It couldn't be him..  
"Oh yes...Harry. I _am _you_.." _that tongue darted out playfully to lick Harry's nose, a glimpse of pointed teeth during a brief smile. The creature's mouth rested upon Harry neck, mouth moving against the bloodied skin, tongue licking up the fresh crimson. Harry closed his eyes; his chained self smiling against the flesh below his ear, teasing Harry with the bites; sucking at his neck until it pulled away, watching Harry's face until eyes opened. Eyes met eyes, one closing in pleasure just received, the other staying open until it swooped down, grasping Harry's lips in a sensational kiss, the being parting his lips with it's tongue, the two kissing sensually in the dank chamber. All Harry knew was completion, the utmost pleasure creating his body to react in a way he never knew possible. Tongue trust inside his mouth, caressing his into action...toying with each other...  
_ALKHUAN_  
The shackles of the chained body opened, all in slow motion the body falling forwards, arms wrapped around Harry's head as the kiss continued. Harry too lost in the foreign sensations to acknowledge the creature's release; two bodies melding into one, the kiss no longer.  
** _ALKHUAN  
_**Harry staggered backwards, the final impact of the joined bodies thrusting him back. His mind felt split, his soul ripping apart until it was finally separated, the newest soul completing the two halves in the middle; his soul being forced to assemble itself anew. Harry's eyes flew open as new wings protruded from his back, his previous black wings turning a silver, while the new ones took on the role of the multicolored ebony; ripping open his flesh to make room for them, chest arching and head thrown back. He let out a violent scream, mind cracking open until the pain became too much and he sagged to the floor unconscious.  
-Alkhuan-  
Blue light erupted from Harry's limp body, coarse dark purple forcing it out, creating a shield around the fallen angel, keeping the blue aurora from entering back into it's right body. Silent hands clutched the blue soul, dragging the struggling light until it was thrust into the chains that once held the similar being, the life of the blue already flickering within it's eternal trap. Purple finally sagged into Harry's body completely, no other force keeping it from imbedding itself into the body it wanted.  
Harry's eyes flew open, the red now mixed with black and purple, no longer windows to his soul, but harsh glares. A smirk adjourned his mouth as his chest was lifted off the ground with seemingly to outside force, arms resting limply be his side until he brought them to his face, admiring the flawless skin with black tattoos. Wings lifted Harry to his feet. He looked about him, staring at the familiar surroundings, yet changed from what he remembered. Bringing his right hand in front of his body, with a simple flick of his hand, clothing appeared over his naked body, skin no longer stark white, but graced with a supple tan and larger muscles. Leather pants clung to his shaped legs, white shirt of lace left unbuttoned, for who would want to cover up such perfection as his own body? With great satisfaction, the new Harry created a robe of the darkest shade of black imaginable, yet intricate threads of emerald, saphire and silver shimmered throughout the cloak as he moved, thoroughly content with the fine material ripped at the bottom and sleeves, leaving triangular slits.  
Harry turned in his steps, facing the passageway that lead to the sanctity of his mind, intent on going back, then ridding himself of the pathetic spell that bound his outside body. He lifted his left hand, using a fierce spell to blast away the feet of rock preventing him from merely walking to his destination. Rising into the air, Harry spurred himself forward with all possible speed...  
Dumbledore lifted Harry into a sitting position, leaving him leaning against a chair as the Headmaster left to grab a vile of potion left at his desk. He didn't notice as he stood in front of Harry, the eyes flicker from red to green, then settling back at a deeper shade of red. The Headmaster was intend on finding out the real happening of the day of Voldemort's attack on Surrey, and since Sirius and Remus were gone, hiding from him, he had only Harry to turn to. Partially lifting the spell, just enough to let him open Harry's mouth, he poured the vile down Harry's throat, making sure his body would swallow it. He let a few seconds pass until he sat across from Harry, getting himself comfortable.  
"What is your full name?" Dumbledore needed to test Harry; make sure he was coherent and capable of speaking.  
"Harry James Potter," was the dull response.  
Satisfied, Dumbledore set out on his need for knowledge, disregarding the fact that he had kidnapped a student, placed him in an advanced body bind, and left him to battle his own internal fight.  
"What happened the day that Voldemort attacked Surrey this past summer?" Content that Harry couldn't misdirect the question and answer differently, Dumbledore waited for the response.  
Harry remained still for a short time, eyes unblinking, breath steady, body complacent. Only a short intake of breath signaled Harry's start of the story.  
"I was asleep when he came in the morning. I was woken by Aunt Petunia's screams as Death Eaters barged into the house, creating wreckage where ever they stepped, the foul stench of blood carried through the corridors where they tread. Voldemort hadn't arrived yet, him content with his minions to complete the task of killing everyone and bringing me to him. I was able to get out my wand and send Hedwig to get help by the time they opened the door. They didn't barge into the room; but all used Stupefy on me at once so I couldn't block individual spells. With careful hands, as if holding a precious cargo, they brought me outside, where Voldemort awaited me; the streets covered with blood of the muggles who had left their houses to stop the intruders.  
"He smiled at me and took the spell of, asking if I was comfortable and prepared to die. He lifted us into the air, turning his wand to me and preparing to perform whichever spell he was going to use against me. It was then that member's of the order: Sirius, Remus, several aurors arrived. I don't think Hedwig had gotten my message to them, but the shield devices of the house must have been broken to signal magical entrance without permission. Havoc ensued.  
"I don't know how, but Voldemort was able to keep us aloft while they battled on the ground. I tried getting away, but they took my wand and I was pretty much defenseless, waiting for Dumbledore to arrive and help me, like he promised.  
"During the fight, Voldemort used his spell against me. I don't rightly remember, but it was a green light. A take off of the killing spell, only with changes to it. I felt my soul being ripped from my body, and a gust of wind entering me, as if Voldemort decided he was going to switch us. Or steal my essence.  
"It was then that I the fight entered into the air and I was no longer held aloft. I ran to Sirius and Remus, two of the last standing out of a handful that had once come to help. As we went to find shelter, I felt a spell strike me, and, I'm not exactly sure what happened. A hot rage swept threw me, and I know I called out a spell I couldn't have known, then everything went black. When I woke, Voldemort had already started the spell again, and there were no more aurors or Death Eaters. I panicked, trying to get free, but the spell was holding me. Again I felt the pain of being ripped apart, but this time I didn't have any strength left to fight him. Whatever spell I had just done, drained me. I was nothing left, just a husk of a body trying to control my breathing so that my lungs filled with air and kept me alive a bit longer. Someone struck from below, and Voldemort was flung sideways. In the brief moment that I could move myself, I called upon an Ancient, the Hawk Spirit to defend me and then bring my safely to the ground.  
"But all was not as I thought it to be, and Voldemort once again continued his spell, putting as much magic as he could into it, finding a hole in my shield. But something went wrong. Something I cannot even 'til this day explain. A burst of power hit both me and Voldemort, a clashing of his magic and my magic. We were flung together, molded as one until we were then forced apart, his magic and mine intermingling for a brief moment in time; his magic being projected into me, while I had a defense up to keep my magic inside me, safe.   
"Once again, everything went black for a short period. When I was able to stagger to my feet, I saw that Sirius and Remus had survived, if no one else. What went horribly wrong, I can only assume, was that Voldemort was trying to steal my soul and put his own in my body, so that he may use my power. Instead, when we clashed, he gave me his magic, taking only part of my body, and I intern, became one with my Hawk Spirit."  
Dumbledore placed the tip of his wand to his mind, his memories of what Harry just told him reverberating through his brain, too much information to carry; hence his need to put them into his Pensieve and rid his mind of the information swirling about it. The lucid thoughts were placed into the bowl, wand stirring them into the rest, the let to settle. And it was only the beginning of the questioning. The was so much more Dumbledore needed to know about what happened to Harry afterwards, where he had been and why he had ignored the letter that was Dumbledore's last hope in seeing if he was still alive. How he had come to be such a dark man from such a light boy. Why he was covered in tattoos...  
"Now Harry," Dumbledore started, but was stopped as a wind threw the windows open, flinging papers about, directed from Harry's frozen body. Dumbledore was pushed backwards, his chair toppling over and sending him sprawling onto the ground. He stood quickly, wand raised to any sudden attack; just then noticing Harry's body transform. A new set of wings grew to adjourn Harry's back with the old, his pale skin taking on a tan, body growing a bit larger with the increase in muscle. His clothing changed before Dumbledore's eyes, shirt parted to reveal flawless skin, smooth stomach, and the beautiful pattern of tattoos. No longer was the concealment cloak covering his shoulders, but a new one of immense beauty that made Dumbledore's breath catch in his throat, only to be released when Harry's head raised up and his own eyes connected with darker red eyes mixed with new colors of purple and black.  
"Harry.." Dumbledore called softly, unsure of his position with the newest change in his hero. Laughter was met as his reply, silky smooth baritone as Harry raised himself off the chair in one fluid movement. Standing before Dumbledore he half smiled, not quite a smirk, revealing almost canine teeth, sharp with no questions about their destructive force.  
"Now, now, Dumbledore...it's not a pleasant sight to see you gawk, for you're too lowly of a being to praise my body." The sensuous voice sent shivers down Dumbledore's spine, it being far too musical and melodious to be real. Harry walked counterclockwise around Dumbledore's body, hand trailing behind to linger on his chest, shoulder's brushing. "I'll have none of that 'Harry' calling. What a mortal name." He smiled when once again they came face to face. "No. You'll have to address me as Alkhuan...that's my name."   
Alkhuan looked around the room at the mess he made, frowning at the sight of all the papers floating to the ground, books opened, furniture sprawled about. "This won't do.." he smiled, twirling his right hand's pointer finger to fix the mess. "Isn't that better, Headmaster..?"  
Dumbledore watched as the room instantly went back to normal, riveted by the display of power. "Yes, Harry.." he replied, almost absent mindedly.  
Alkhuan fixed his eyes upon Dumbledore, narrowing with the name he was called. His arm shot out in a quite motion, left hand grasping Dumbledore's neck in it's powerful grasp. "But I'm not Harry, Headmaster....I'm _Alkhuan._"  
He lifted Dumbledore off the ground with his hand, flinging him onto the coach across the room, leaving him winded and struggling for air. Alkhuan merely smiled and waved his fingers goodbye, striding across the room; gliding with all the grace of an angel. It was time to visit Harry's little friends, and all those who betrayed him...  
  
  
  
  
  
  
_Dreams and Nightmares_  
  
Feed my dreams of nightmares and shadows  
Obscenities twisted by a mind of sin.  
A parasite feeding on trial and retribution  
Taking and destroying your mind from within.  
  
It waits and beckons when in slumber you lie,  
A temporary coma of Death's favourite daughter.  
Unable to resist the sweet sleep of sadism,  
Willing falling like a lamb to the slaughter.  
  
Flashing images turn common visions  
To masocistic horrors of subconscious mind.  
Childhood fears resurected with malice  
You have no where to run but are easy to find.  
  
Taunted by demons you long to forget,  
Insignificant pictures distorted to memories.  
Nightmares returned from connotations of fear,  
Disturbingly telling your long lost story.  
  
The rocking horse's severed head  
Floating in a bath of blood.  
Stare into it's hollow eyes  
See the demon you keep locked inside.


	7. The Dark Ere Mast

  
  
Warnings: Harry Potter and Crew belong to J.K. Rowling, I make no profit  
Some of the writing may come out disfigured, I apologize  
For once I DO! own the poem!!!!!!! [even though it was heavily influenced by Charlotte Smith], but not Shakespeare's writing  
Also, I do not have a Beta Reader for this, so I'm sorry if there are mistakes. If you find some, please tell me in your review.  
  
***MY DEEPEST APOLOGIES FOR GETTING THIS OUT SO LATE. I HAD SO MANY PROJECTS AND HOMEWORK THIS WEEK/WEEKEND, AND JUST NO TIME TO WRITE. AND WHEN I FINALLY HAD A CHANCE TO WRITE, I COMPLETELY WENT BRAIN DEAD. I STARED AT MY COMPUTER FOR AN HOUR BEFORE GIVING UP. HOPEFULLY THIS ISN'T TOO BAD, AND MUCH BETTER THAN THE PREVIOUS CHAPTER THE SEVENTH.  
  
  
~Chapters will be coming out once a week, every Monday, unless my muse fails me and it takes a bit longer.~   
  
***  
  
BeautifulMissLulu: I've been blushing ever since I first posted this story! I've gotten so many complements of praise I don't know what to do with myself! Its so weird!!! I never expected people to like it that much, but I'm so happy that you and everyone else do. Its an honor to be on _both_ your Favorite Authors List [though my other fics suck!!!] and your Stories List! Thanks for reading!  
  
ProfessorZ: Always glad to see a familiar face! It's ok that you hadn't had a chance to review in awhile..you're reviewing now, and that's all that counts! Lol, I didn't really think I caused you physical pain ^^;; I'm real happy that someone felt so strongly for that scene. I was worried that no one would understand how much feeling was coursing through Harry. I hope I'm always betting better! It would suck if I started to regress, eh? Just because I'm not sure if I explained it properly, Harry did become one with the Hawk Spirit, but Alkhuan is a mixture of many different things.... He is vengeful..and pretty much everything Harry has repressed inside of himself.. [hence him being chained up in Harry's mind] Alkhuan, sadly, doesn't really know anything that Harry has been doing. He's been there, forming himself to become strong enough to get out, and now when Harry was forced into the confrontation, Alkhuan attacked. He really doesn't know what's been going on, because he's been trying to sustain himself. So: everyone, he has a vague sense of who they are, but he doesn't know some people..and others more... Aa..Sirius. He will be explained, just not now. ^^;; He had a reason for proclaiming Harry dead... Ok! The wings. Yea, sorry if I wasn't clear. Harry now has 4 wings, two black, two silver. Alkhuan's body is more of his own making, the epitome of everything Harry ever wanted to be but couldn't, so now that Harry's changed to Alkhuan, you have to take into account that it's Harry, Alkhuan, the Hawk Spirits..and other's who have contributed to the new body. You're always so close!! Stop looking into my mind! Love ya too! ^_^  
  
Dreamweaver:Lol, it's supposed to be different, and spooky. I wanted something different than anything I've ever read before, and the ideas just came to me! Chapters come once a week, and I'm always sorry for the delay if I don't get them out on every Monday!  
  
MiniEinstein: I'm always so glad to get readers who can blend with the story and really get a sense of what's going on. I'm so happy you find it moving and well-written. ^^;; I, myself, haven't gotten any nightmares yet, though I had thought of creepy evilly mean things I could write into this, but when I sometimes read it over, I get misty-eyed at what I write. [Especially the scene at the old inn with the girl who dies after being freed.] I sometimes look at what I've written and go..hey..I didn't write that!!! ^^;; This is talent I hadn't even knew I possessed, and I think that if everyone just found the one thing that spurred them on..me finding mine in haunting music...they could write to their heart's content.  
  
B: I've been getting that a lot. ^^;; I'm just afraid that if I try to change my style at all, it would completely ruin the story, and I don't want that. Celtic. Now that's new. I never even thought of that before, but I can see where you're coming from. I wonder if anyone else is thinking along the same lines.  
  
striped_jaguar: -Sighs in relief- I thought you had left me! -hugs- I'm so glad your back! Imagine me, writing two chapters, and no stripes replying..I was heartbroken! :..[ But fear not! Remii is strong! Remii is a survivor! Remii wants to lock Stripes in a closet so that she made wave little flags around getting Remii to write more often. Hail to the plan! I like blue. Blue scribbles are nice. Posted here. Pink is nice too. Sometimes. Stripes must read! Green is the best. What a great color. -thumbs up- They are! We must pity Dumbledore, for he is old and manipulative and the kind of grandfather that you always want to impress, but never do anything right for. Voldemort will come into play... I thought I had explained that in the last chapter..? Maybe not? Urg. Body..hehe. Remii will never tire of Stripes, unless she decides that she doesn't like Aeternus Noctem and stops reviewing for good! See..Alkhuan..wasnt really live during the Four's time, but you'll be really confused by my answer when you read this chapter. It'll all get explained. More come! Alkhuan will be a bit different, but a lot like Harry in ways. He's a lot more cocky..-clears throat-, and does greatly enjoy his body. His relationship with Harry is a bit sketchy, but will also be explained later. Later later later! Trust me when I say that chapter 7, once removed, sucked. Big time. Reeeeally was bad. Just down right horrid. So I threw it out and went on a completely different tangent. Much more satisfied is Remii now. I've just been so busy that I haven't updated in so long! Ack! Acid..mmm...who says he lives? -cowers- ...Y-yes..Remii can draw. Erm..what should Remii draw? I thought..since it's my fav, that I might do the scene where Harry is cradling the girl from the inn, after he healed her. That ok? Or anything specific to be seen from my mind's twisted vision of it? Aw..you don't have to call me 'miss', ITS 'SIR' DAMMIT!! You're welcome!!  
  
stripes...: More than one review from you is fun. Repetition suites you. ^_^ Waste of space is cool, means I get one more review!  
  
ProfessorZ: Don't pout! Here's the chapter -hands it on silver platter- I'm actually kinda happy that no one really told me what they wanted to happen. -wipes sweat from forehead- I guess that means you guys actually like it! You like me, you really really like me! I love listening to rants, unless its about some guy/girl that broke your heart. That makes me depressed. Keep reading and I'll keep writing!  
  
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Chapter Seven: The Dark Ere Mast  
  
Æternus Noctem

  
Chains bound his arms, useless struggling producing enflamed wrists; skin burned red in his fervish struggling. Metal clinked in a piercing shriek against hard stones, chains holding his arms above his head, legs still standing strong; the fight for freedom not yet too far from grasp. Harry stood, a molten million shades of blue making up the body he had previously used. His soul: the last fleeting hope in his exile made sure the promise that his traitorous darkness within could no more kill him than end it's own life willingly. They were the same, him and Alkhuan, a comprehension he had yet to come to terms with; the thought crushing all he had repressed, hidden, inside himself.  
He lashed out, legs kicking empty air, hitting against the wall behind him; attempting to propel himself outwards, away from the backdrop that beckoned him to sag against it; promoting the loss of his fight. Crimson tears dripped from his wrists, skin torn from the cutting metal holding them aloft. His struggle was useless, he knew, but Harry's prevailing spirit would not let Alkhuan win. He would soon gain control of his body again...  
Alkhuan walked briskly through the halls of Hogwarts, right hand tracing stones connecting together to make up the walls, smooth textures traced underneath fingertips, body memorizing the foreign sensations. Never before had Alkhuan experienced anything as exhilarating as a mere sense of feeling. From his birth, he watched with envious eyes as his counter lived, forsaking the world in which he walked, ignoring all outward stimulation's; taking _his_ form for granted. Alkhuan paused in his step, countenance rigid as he looked upon the wall once smeared with blood; cryptic writing foretelling the doom of all [1]. It was unjust, living the parallel life as another, yet not being allowed to see all that happened. Alkhuan possessed only few memories of Harry's, his blank void just that; _his_ to fill, his to live.  
And it would all start with revenge. Harry. His own. His self. His love. He would free Harry's mind from the torments that trapped it so, starting with the friends he had tried so desperately to hate [2]. Turning his back from one blessed memory, Alkhuan made his way towards the chamber which Harry named his own. It was perfect: hidden, enclosed with the few necessities for survival, one prominent belief shared between the two. Everything seemed so different, viewed from Harry's opinionated point of view. The walls, demoralizing that they may look; old age apparent from wear and usage, misconceptions and faults, yet it took his breath away to see the magic lining the stones. They hummed with the beats of live throbbing within their oxygenated veins, resonating the power they possessed to protect and kill. The school itself was alive, filling with memories from beginning until when it would fall, holding secrets of late night tellings, keeping watch over its many children. Alkhuan halted suddenly, shadow falling by his feet, stopping him from stepping down the stairs that would lead him to solace.  
"Eadem." The name hung in the air, reverberating against shallow walls, thundering down a thousand weights within it's whisper.  
Eadem looked to the one he should know, yet understanding that the face before him was just a keen resemblance to the comforting side of his master; being that he missed in their partings. He slinked back into the shadows as 'Harry' stretched out his arm to him; a gesture commonly used between them, yet somehow so different. The situation was different. His Differō different.  
"Why do you flee so?" Alkhuan's eyes softened, his pull to the snake apparent in full sense of Harry's body. Eadem hissed a warning; fangs bared, dripping with venom in defense. Alkhuan searched into the depth of the creature's eyes, eyebrows raised to express true sadness and regret with what he found. "You know." A sad sigh escaped from Alkhuan's lips, tongue wetting his parched mouth.  
"_Truth?_" Eadem demanded, link to Harry wavering in the shadow before him; grief overcoming his all.  
"Forsooth. Be not sad, for his is a beautiful farewell. Will you not wish him well to sleep a thousand lives, rather trap him here to your heart's content? Be at peace; keep me not from mine, for who art thou to determine the tides of his life; give rise to those waves that wish to settle after the storm has passed? He came to me. Be at peace. He came to me.." Alkhuan crouched low, left hand extended to touch the affinity that crept out of reach so. With a blink, so quick as Alkhuan not capable of tracing his movements, Eadem clenched his jaw over the hand that bade him to submit.  
A whirlwind of power jetted forth from Eadem; fury in the audacity of the being. Fury at himself for accepting the speech for truth. Fury at the loss of his Harry. Poison released from his body, traveling through the blood lines of Alkhuan's arm, spurred on by the overwhelming emotion of Eadem.  
Taken aback by the unforeseen attack, Alkhuan staggered back in his crouch, knee falling to the ground as right hand supported his upper body; left hand outstretched still, his life piling in drips beneath his open wound. He stared incredulously at Eadem. His Eadem. Wind blew his hair from his face, eyes flashing in a power fight from black to red, his body collapsing, convulsing as his veins drew closed, blocking circulation. Robe flew backwards, such strength extended from Eadem's magic creating a pulsing flow of the air around them, trying to push his fallen master from the floor beneath him, successful in only flinging the cloth material about. Fingers extending, testing their movements. Arms with enough strength to lift his upper body, head lifted as red eyes connected with the hardened stare of Eadem, loose ebony strands falling down gently, framing pale fervish skin.  
"Eadem..." Harry whispered, eyes wide, wounded hand reaching forward only to fall to the ground as his strength gave out. Blood tears leaked from shocked eyes, trailing down pallid cheeks, red rivers stark against snow. Harry coughed, blood spilling from his mouth as weaning gasps gave evidence to his failing lungs. "This...the unkindest cut...of all..."  
Without hesitation, Eadem drew forward to eject the counter poison into Harry's bloodstream. His Harry, at his lowest state, was able to reach through the boundaries that concealed him from Eadem's view. His one; his only; his same. Eadem could see it in his eyes, feeling the connecting to Harry's emotion: relief consuming all. Relief that he was no longer bound, his soul restored.  
"Eadem," Harry breathed out as his body healed itself, prone form lying, sprawled on the floor. Eadem, his same, before him, watching over him, gazing into those deep eyes that held promises of eternal lives, heart beat's dancing to the drums of the woodland creatures, fiddles calling bodies to sway in their never ending tune. Harry moved his arm slowly, his tense muscles reminded him of how close he came to death. Inches away from death he and Alkhuan had been, all their magic not capable of stemming the flow of life from their grasp. And yet, through his dire need of release, Alkhuan had forced him upon the throne overlooking their passage between planes, formless shapes becoming more defined as he prepared himself for the fall into Death's embrace. But Alkhuan had held him back, cradling his struggling form as he begged for the end, Alkhuan whispering soft comfort's to still his fleeing mind; words of sorrow.  
And as it began, it did so end. Alkhuan flung him from his seat upon the pedestal of life, hands reaching up to slow the descent of his translucent body. It was just as he felt himself die; his wish granted; did the pain of a slow death fill his senses previously unaware. He found himself looking into the endless eyes of Eadem, Alkhuan forcing him to save them both before it was too late. Before his wish came true.  
"_Differ__ō__. Your eyes have sseen much within yourssself. Perhapssss much of timess of old. Yessss, The anssers are failing from your grassssp, but sstep jusst a little, and all issss losssst._" Eadem neared Harry's shaking form, loose hair pooling over to mask his face from sight.  
"Much within myself...surely you jest Pars? I've seen much of myself since time had begun, since the blossom of mankind; since the birth of good and evil. I had lived the lives of princes and kings, slayed dragons, slayed men. I have sailed down the rivers that led to the moon; I have seen the sun cry; I have seen love bleed. But I was there through all. I dealt the blow that crushed my opponents. I was the one to turn against my teacher, my leader. Do not forsake that I know the past; for I have lived it. Time flowed under my footsteps once, and it shall again." Alkhuan looked into the startled eyes of his beloved snake, mouth creeping into a half sinister smile.  
"_Differ__ō_." Piteously, Eadem looked on. In a flourish of movement, Alkhuan stood, pulling the loose hair into a tie, tapping his temple after he finished, indicating where Differō currently rested.  
Alkhuan's face hardened, eyes boring into the creature that neared him, entering through his pants leg to climb up his bare chest, resting upon his shoulder. Had Eadem been deceived? His lord was no more. Captured and trapped, kept alive for Alkhuan's sake and no more. His love for Harry strong, his hate greater. Kin such as themselves could only survive under the rule of the other, one body never owing to two lives. It was the first fight of their internal war, and he had come out victor.  
"I'm not Harry," Alkhuan spoke, eyes fixed on the stairs he walked down, trying to ignore the disturbing feelings rising in his chest. Was he so much in love with Harry and Eadem, that he would feel this emotion of regret? Not regret for taking control- it was by far his time- but perhaps regret in deceiving the loyal creature. For crushing what fleeting hope it had in the return of its owner?  
"_But ssssame you are. Eadem sssesss. Ssame. Differ__ō__ remainssss in you. I remain by you_." There was no resistance to be met, for Alkhuan had not the words to rebuke. Could Eadem see into him, so as he knew Harry, so knew himself? But what fate would tangle their lives so, casting them into each other's paths as they fled deeper and deeper into the endless woods? What sprite would mortal games play, seeking amusement in mortals such as they, ruining their lives as it paints a beautiful picture? What cruel god would grant Harry his wish of Eadem, only to render the snake loyal to one of Harry's new enemies? Such mind tricks took not kindly to Alkhuan, as his joy of freedom diminished, honor stirring to clash with any injustices' set upon him. More to suffer under his wrath for all that stood against Harry.  
The air grew stale as Alkhuan walked through the labyrinth of endless corridors in the dungeons, keen ears attempting to decipher any agonous screams of mortal terror, echoing through the stone walls. None came, none went; all remaining a ghostly silence, shadows dancing in the flickering lights of candles, too few set about. Shadowed creatures hiding away from the all seeing eyes of the Godly Alkhuan, wings spread out behind him, his stride of power no Ancient Mayan God could hope to display. A stride of intimidation for the confrontation against the few past friends of Harry, their submitting leaving him more time to discover what he now truly possessed.  
They were close, his blood singing, palms sweating, a child anxious to win the prize he was now old enough to compete for. Anxious voices reached his ears, frantic yelling mixed with infinite worry. His, no, Harry's name was mentioned several times, mouths gasping in breath as they ran about. Alkhuan stood outside the portrait leading into the room, thin cloth material with years of spells the barrier between his side, and that of the betrayers. The red snake hissed in disapproval of him; Alkhuan finding the humor of his situation too much to bear, his looks doing him no help whatsoever. Laughter rang out in the hall, causing the voice to hush, muffled footsteps approaching the painting. The door flung open in a rush, air blowing Alkhuan's robes; causing them to flutter about aimlessly, his first impression that of great importance. The lone girl of the crowd stepped back as he drew near, her eyes showing all fear she tried to repress from seeing his sweet smile.  
"Hermione.." he coaxed, using the voice of Harry to beckon her forward and into his outstretched arms. "Oh Hermione. Do not take leave. The party has just begun."  
Alkhuan stared into her startled eyes as he sent a wave pulse to keep the others abay. They landed harshly in chairs Alkhuan summoned at the last moment, ivy springing up to bind their hands and legs to that which they rested upon. No more could they struggle against him, wands useless without hands to hold them. Hermione remained centered in the circle Alkhuan had created; rooted to the spot by magic she had not felt cast upon her. Mouth formed a tight line, sharp remarks and hidden knowledge wanting to burst forth, yet silenced so in Alkhuan's will.  
"Hermione, Hermione...Why do you stare so? Has it been so long since we last parted? Only before had you held my hand...Cradled me...Spoke of love..." Angry eyes flashed in the dark of the room, crystal moon shining through opened windows, few candles still with wax to melt left. Alkhuan circled around Hermione, much as he had Dumbledore, calculating eyes assessing his soon to be prey. She was a pretty little thing. Slim, gangly almost. No creatures could he persuade to decimate her carcass by hunger. No, he would find a much more suitable death for her. Perhaps by his own hand.  
Raising his arm above his head, lightening flashed outside with the foretelling of an upcoming storm, seconds only until the pounding beat of rain crashed to the ground, cool wind throwing open unlocked shutters. Right hand called to the swarm of electricity dancing along the sky, smoke rising from smoldering skin as rods of lightening focused on his outstretched hand. Black encased the room as candles blew out, all lightening from the sky absent as it had all been used in his spell. Where once before had been uncontrolled flashes of white, now in Alkhuan's hand rested a dagger of immense beauty. No metal was used, and no metal seen. For the blazing brilliance of his nature's curse was the element of lightening he had called to his disposal; the lightening that now shaped his weapon. There was no time to blink before Alkhuan's hand came flying down, grim face, eyes dancing in delight, as a red slash of opened skin was exposed on Hermione's arm. Hermione's eyes flew open in a silent cry, unshed tears mingling beneath closed eyelids. Deep was the cut that Alkhuan had dealt her, deep enough to severe her Cephalic vein, yet shallow enough to keep the arm completely intact.  
Blood spewed from the dangling limb, had she not been spelled, it still would not have been able to move, muscles damaged beyond repair without magic. Beautiful red coated the floor in a pile beneath her legs, such a sight reminding Alkhuan of when they had first seen Eadem. Bringing the dagger to his mouth, Alkhuan let his tongue trace the edge, drinking in the pitiful sight of Hermione's pain filled eyes, disgusted at the being that cleaned his dagger. His mouth parted to let a unfathomable giggle erupt, giddy at the thoughts that came to his head. He smiled truly at Hermione, expecting to see her understanding of the moment's humor.  
He walked the few inches to her battered body, wrapping his arms around her neck, kissing her cheek. "Don't you see, Hermione?" Alkhuan gestured to the struggling bodies of Draco, Blaise and Ron, all red with anger for what was happening to their friend; bodies not capable of movement or speech. "We're here. All together at last. How it should be." He kissed her mouth, non resistant, pouring his emotions that overwhelmed him. "I must. Must for him, must for me, don't you see? It has to end, and will end. Now." Eyes turned hard after his one soft moment of debate. Alkhuan _had_ to end this now. It had plagued him, had raised him. His need for hate of these creatures forming in his mind, causing the feelings that erupted from him now.  
And there was Harry. Harry who had been through so much, who had wasted away with the never-ending thoughts of Hermione and Ron. Hermione and Ron who never came for him. Whatever remorse Alkhuan felt within his hearts when he looked upon the tear filled faced stirred no more. It would end. Now.  
Raising his arm, Alkhuan once again brought the dagger burning down, lightening flickering with his force, eyes wide with hate. No resistance was met as the light-formed weapon met with Hermione's soft skin, slicing through her chest as he yelled in his despair. Hermione crumpled to the ground, no life force for the magic to use holding her up. Alkhuan wiped away a lone tear that dared to cross his face, blood smudging against fingers and skin, leaving a crude red stripe. He dared not look upon the open eyes, lungs that struggled to take in breaths of air, ensuring her continued life.  
Alkhuan turned in his steps to Draco, empty-flat eyes staring into gray eyes that held defiance. Could he do this? He must. With a battle cry to send shivers into Banshees of Old, Alkhuan spread his wings, lunging across the room to the smirking face of the blonde. Laughing eyes that could see into his soul. Eyes that must be dead, so much like his own. Just as the tip of his dagger flashed against Draco's pale cheek, Alkhuan felt himself being pulled back, a feelingless wind crushing against his bones, sending him whirling against the wall. Draco stood silently from his chair, wiping the small amount of blood that trickled from his pierced cheek. Alkhuan jumped to his feet, stones crushed with his shape, impact rendering the wall useless. Lighting dagger dropped carelessly from his fingers, blowing into the wind and back to the sky, it's use done, no longer needed; Alkhuan walked slowly towards the face that had hurt Harry so. Taunted him. Abused him.  
Draco felt a swelling of magic in his chest, knowing that if he did not submit Harry now, they would never be able to. The two stopped, facing each other only paces away, no movements to attack, only eyes boring into one another's. Silently they fought, entering into the wave patterns of their opponent's aura, detecting weakness. Detecting fault. Draco withdrew quickly, knowing that their Harry at his weakest had none, and so this new creature, their new Harry, would so too not have one. Alkhuan smiled, shock of surprise hidden among Draco's hardened features. He had felt the flickering pattern of Draco's magic, knowing that the hidden magic newly awakened would serve briefly, for Draco knew not how to use it properly. It was uncommon for many to discover their hidden resources of undisturbed magic, uncommon to open it and use it. But many a desperate time was it found, and so Draco had unknowingly found his.  
But it would be no help. For as powerful as Draco seemed, he could not control himself, and would too quickly and too much of his power use. The fight would be brief. Alkhuan crouched low, extending his right arm to the ground, fingers just grazing the softness of the rug. Eadem, ever so silently, crept down his arm, circling around his wrist to rest on the carpet his same had created. Draco bit back a cry of despair. Eadem. Their Eadem. _His_ Eadem had left. Joined with the side he never should have looked upon. Joined with the enemy in this bitter battle for life. And he would leave them all, choosing to watch as they were slaughtered. As they died slowly, doing nothing to prevent their demise. As..Hermione...  
Draco cried out, launching himself at the partially kneeling Alkhuan, sword forming in his fingertips as tears of rage flew from his eyes. Sparks formed as metal clashed with the robe-covered arm of Alkhuan; head bowed, a single river of blood dripping down his arm, drops falling to the ground. Alkhuan's shaded eyes gleamed deadly as his head lifted to stare into Draco's eyes. With amazing speed he flung the newly made sword from his left arm, right flying up to crack against Draco's jaw, sending him backwards.   
Draco stood, left arm holding the sword, suddenly too strong for him to hold in defense. His right arm reached up to wipe the blood that trickled out of his mouth, forgoing cleaning and spitting most out. He glared through slit eyes as the amused creature already started to walk to where he stood on unsure legs. Pain welled up in his body, momentarily blacking out as millions of colors swirled before his eyes. Cracks of thunder echoed through the still room, Blaise and Ron struggling desperately for a way out of their trap. Finding none as Draco had, they could only stare listlessly as Alkhuan walked forwards to their hurt friend. Raged swelled through Ron's bones as he gazed demuringly upon the still body of the fallen Hermione.  
Draco leaned against the sword as he attempted to catch his bearings. His vision swelled to where he could no longer make out any objects, body feeling like jelly as his legs gave way and arms dropped to his side. Pain laced through his mind, voices chanting, heart pounding to a song he could not hear. A desperate plea cried through his mind, a lone violin singing in regret, misfortune, hope. Calling to him, begging him. And Draco looked into the lessening dark and let go.  
Alkhuan halted in his step. Something was wrong. The magical aura of Draco flared to life, hundreds of arm-like rays jumping from his body, shining straight through Alkhuan's. Alkhuan cried out in horror as thousands of lights pierced his body, pain the only coherent thought. His cry ricocheted throughout the minds of every being in Hogwarts, every witch and wizard around him, every forming life humming in his despair. All stopped. Tears trailed from Blaise and Ron's eyes as their sole focus was on the immense pain thumping through Alkhuan. At the loss they felt, the grief. At the emptiness from the fall of Alkhuan.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
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MWAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!  
  
  
  
^_^  
  
  
  
  
  
[1] _The Chamber of Secrets  
_  
[2] Alkhuan doesn't have many of Harry's memories, so he doesn't know Draco, Hermione, Blaise, and Ron's love for Harry


	8. Serpent and Mist

  
Warnings: Harry Potter and Crew belong to J.K. Rowling, I make no profit  
Some of the writing may come out disfigured, I apologize  
I do not own the poem used it belongs to Dena L. Moore, or Shakespeare's writing  
Also, I do not have a Beta Reader for this, so I'm sorry if there are mistakes. If you find some, please tell me in your review.  
  
***Sigh. Well, I really have no reason to have not posted this earlier, only that school and quarterlies suck. Big time. Mondo sucking. 2 cent whore sucking. I did not just write that. Anyway, I hope this nice big chapter compensates for my week absence. Hopefully, school will go back to it's not-so-evilness and I'll have more time to write  
  
  
~Chapters will be coming out once a week, every Monday, unless my muse fails me and it takes a bit longer.~   
  
  
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Ski: Why thanks. I know I have so many small things that I don't even notice. ^^;; Like my tenses! I've always been told by my mom that I need to get my tenses straight. Ay me. Hopefully one day a beta will see my story in all it's horribleness, realize I need direction, and take me under their wing for their beta goodness! Urg..please..pplleeaassee don't bring up the crimson tears. I know..I hate it too. Oh so much. I wrote this at work, where I had no inspiration what so ever, and no thesaurus at that, and crimson was the only thing that came to mind. Hell, if it irks the author, you know somethings wrong. ^^;; Savvy! I've come to understand that most people don't like it when you write Parseltongue with the many 'sss'. I, myself, like the distinction between regular speech, and Parseltongue. I think it gives it a bit of a flair. If I had to change anything about Eadem..lastly would I change his speech. I would never take this as a flame! It's really helpful constructive criticism, and hopefully, eventually, I'll get around to changing the many mistakes you've found. Thanks a bunch! Enjoy.  
  
MiniEinstein: And you're back for another round of A.N.! Don't cry..here's a hanky. -hands tissue- But crying is good, because that means you like the story! A lot! I'm glad you've been able to connect so well with it. And I'm sorry, I just had to pick off one of them, and Hermione was the first. Of many. .... .I've never had anyone try to copy my style! Most hate it..or find it annoying to try..or just find it too hard. It's actually flattering that you've tried. If you're ever successful, let me read, k? It must be a bit odd to read a story that has so many turns, but that just proves that you're able to write in so many different styles. That's a talent I have yet to find. Don't be afraid to find your own style also. As an artist, I tend to copy other's art and not do my own, but it's a lot more satisfying when I can do my own piece, and fully claim it as my own.  
  
B: Questions questions... So many I can't answer, though I wish I could. It would give away the story! Rereading is good, helps get a better sense, and I hope after your second try, you wont be too confused. It's awesome that you can get into the story. So many reviewers have been saying that, but I didn't think it was possible with my writing. Sorry for the late update, I'll try harder! Enjoy.  
  
Jade Mask: I had thought that something was missing, because I love stories like this..and I couldn't find any on FF.Net! Most were evil!Harry gone dark..but I didnt want that..so I wrote my own! It's exciting to know there are other people out there that wanted the same things I did, and really appreciate my work for it. Hopefully I wont dissapoint you!  
  
Gia: -faints- Y-you!! You reviewed _me!! ME!!!!_ Aaaahhhhhhhhhhhhhhh! ----ecstatic. I feel like a lowely peasant that has just been talked to by the high and mighty king! Okok.. calming down. Sooooooo, how you doin? Ehem. Right! They do scream 'slash me!' and they should be given exactly what they want [hint hint] Alternate stories are good. Very good. We like alternate stories. Especially if they contain some yum. Regnava Nel Silenzio [if I haven't said already] is definitly my favorite in-progress fic of yours. -spudders- Slash or not? Are you daft woman?! Of course it must be slash. It just screams slashy-goodness! And besides...you have Loreena McKennit in your story. Loreena McKennit in stories means slash. Uh huh. Rambling is good. Appreciated greatly. And please do email me when you update! Hopefully you'll get the internet back soon No, thank YOU for the review!  
  
  
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Chapter Eight: Serpent and Mist  
  
Æternus Noctem

  
Draco took painful steps to Hermione's side, dropping to his knees once the pain overwhelmed his senses, droplets of blood sent flying upon impact. There was so much. So much of her life staining the cream carpets. So much out of the veins it should be flowing through to ensure life. He gasped back a choked sob, emotion spilling from his eyes as he looked upon her battered body, seeingless eyes. He never wished it to be so. In all his years, covered in dark, shielded in animosity from the brilliant minds in his ignorance, never. Never had he wished such a demise from such a pure heart. Hermione...  
Draco's eyes caught the candlelight, age seemingly old as he looked into the blank stare of his broken friend. Muscles tensed as thoughts races through his mind, whispered voices once again promising relief such as they had during his fight. Relief...if he just gave in. Whispering his sorrow, Draco closed his eyes and surrendered.  
"Oh Helkoreiel," with renewed vigor was Hermione pulled into a fierce hug; cradled, her soaked body resting against his heart. "I fear I have come too late. The the battle has raged and we have lost, that you have fallen... Smitten by the enemy that would you dead." Silver eyes roamed around her face, hoping for an inkling to her survival, hoping against hope. "What fate? What cruelty has come so great that these eyes, once shining crystals, may flitter no more, heedless of my sorrow?"   
A soft glow danced around the slumped forms of Draco and Hermione, the once dark room alighted with the millions of throbbing heart beats lead by the light. A mist, created as if a foreshadowing fog was encased so, parted from the cloud formation of light, stretching from Draco's back. It swayed with the beating of the unheard drums, instinct of nature's creatures dancing upon the ground that held them aloft, pounding out their sorrow so that they may not carry such a trivial burden. Subtle movements used in testing it's survival, the wisp of cloud saw it's departure from Draco's being with a pull of strength, and with it's departure, the dissipation of all angelic light. Into Hermione's body Draco unknowingly led it, probing through, and overlapping, wounds which had not healed. For the dagger, ungodly made, nature used, was a force led only from the destruction of Alkhuan's heart, no purpose served by death to all that met it's wrath.  
A single shudder, seen to none by a Watcher, startled Draco out of his morbid concentration. For he had felt the faint flutter of fingers moved. Fingers which traced the soft cloth to which they rested. Fingers which were not his own. Startled so by the unexpected, Draco lifted his head to gaze into the face of Hermione; pale white of Death's hand, rolling of eyes behind closed lids. He jumped to, the time would be short lived, brief this occasion of Hermione's chance of survival. He laid her body upon the soft carpet, turning his own to face Ron and Blaise, yet eyes surveying every stir of Hermione's wrinkled brow.  
"Brilhen, Culram, help me. Yet she lives!" Draco reached his arm back, beckoning his friend's forward, unconsciously unlocking them from their magical binds. Ron and Blaise rose, ivy torn from arms and legs as they hurried across the room to drop besides their companions.  
"Hope remains while we still live. I had forgotten, wrapped in grief so. Gone may her body be, yet strong is her spirit." Draco faced Blaise, seated to his right side; friend holding back a sharp intake of breath as sharp gray eyes faced black. This was not the same person who Blaise grew with. Changed was the friend he once knew, changed in appearance, for his eyes held hidden knowledge, his face hardened from it's once boyish appeal, sculpted; the smooth porcelain of a Greek statue chiseled out of human flesh.  
"Open your mouth, Brilhen, and we may still have a chance." Draco looked to Blaise, puzzled by his friend's stare and lack of response. "Have you forgotten already? Open your mouth!"  
Blaise slowly brought his dry lips apart, Draco's fingers unexpectedly thrusting his mouth open further as they reached in. Blaise's eyes widened as he panicked, struggling for breath, Draco holding his body still.  
"Relax, I need only a piece. Just a piece will suffice." Draco looked to Blaise, questioning his reactions as his fingers slowly retreated from the moist cavern. His mind went blank with concentration, needing to focus so that everything would happen perfectly.  
Blaise felt a slight tugging, wanting to fight the foreign sensation, yet not knowing how. Eyes closed in pain as Draco ripped a silver ribbon from within, holding it tight between his fingers as it fought to be freed from his grasp. He held it momentarily before placing it upon the open wound of Hermione's arm, forcing it to be imprinted onto her flesh. Seconds later, the string latched into the severed skin around it, creating a binding between pieces before it worked internally to heal.  
Chest would and arm trauma smoothed with the healing of bodily injuries. Faint were the scars present, seen to none but those who knew where to look for it. And yet Hermione stirred not, her soul still not connected to her body though it was healed to perfection. Draco challenged Ron to move as he turned to the Fire Element beside him, whom was oddly complacent as he watched Blaise being cut of his own soul. Ron nodded in understanding, opening his mouth only to have Draco close it.   
"It must be more." Ron quivered slightly, looking to Hermione, who for all her blood tinged clothing, had no sign of ever being harmed. She was so close, he could feel it, yet needed was a bridge to allow her soul to enter back into her body with perfect harmony. Like before....Ron shook his head, pushing aside the unknown thoughts of battle fields and Hermione's death. Surely this was the first time she had died?  
Draco smiled in appreciation as Ron closed his eyes in submission, Hermione's life counting on his understanding. Fingers delicately massaged Ron's brow, feeling for a sign only Draco knew to look for. Ghosting over smooth skin near his eyebrows, Draco held his fingers still as he thrust them into Ron's mind. Ron's eyes flew open as he felt Draco's hand pushing it's way through the strings of his mind, halting once they found his core being. Gently, ever so gently, did Draco bring his hand from Ron, grasped within it a ball of silver strings, light so brilliant eyes closed in shielding. They fought within themselves, chaotic tendrils reaching to connect once again with Ron, pulled closer and closer to Hermione with every second that passed. Pulling them within himself, Draco imagined a bridge, finding Hermione's soul resting above her body, connecting the two through Ron's gift.  
Blaise looked to Hermione, gasping when he saw the outline of a silver bridge form, roots from hidden trees springing up to form the path which she would walk, marking's of gods and devils, life and loss forming along the wood held aloft. Blinking so that he knew he would not imagining it, Blaise could only stare in astonishment as Hermione formed before him, eyes closed and hands held to her chest as he started her journey between planes. Yet before him was not the Hermione he had previously known. Before him was a beauty unlike any other, hair flowing behind her as she took her first steps, gown covering her pearly body, curves not to go unnoticed as a breeze was hurled against her. She stopped in her walk, eyes blinking open as unseen creatures blocked her path, hands held before her in a silent prayers, strength to overcome and conquer, strength to live again. The symbols of life and gods flared brilliantly as her mouth moved in a chant, calling all the forces within her grasp. Strain as he might, Blaise could not hear a word uttered, for Hermione still remained beyond his worldly plain, body seen only through the will of Ron.   
And so had she come, so had she left. Blaise watched as she disappeared from view, despair whelming inside him as he thought all was lost; ghostly bridge unraveling, roots pulled back to their mighty trees as they were no longer needed. He sighed in his utter loss of hope, fearing that Hermione could no longer return to them by any means.  
"Hermione.." Ron whispered with awe, body laid before him glowing with ungodly light, eyes opening. She smiled at him, face untroubled with the torments she had just gone through. Yet she too had changed, but not as so strongly as Draco and Harry. He noticed upon her, an innate beauty which shown outwards, her body beyond pleasant to look upon, her face held with an Elven affinity about it.  
"Ron," she whispered out, voice harmonious as Alkhuan's, calling Ron to do anything she bid him, yet not wanting to fight the calling as he had Alkhuan's. She was pure, elegantly untainted in her change, connected in such a way that held her higher than Alkhuan, more completed, less disturbed. She had willingly sought change, not been forced upon it aside from Alkhuan's actions. "And Maegcair..." Her hazel eyes shone with relief as they rested upon Draco. "We meet again. When I had not encountered your essence, it worried me so. Yet here you are, before me."  
"It has been a long journey, time not taking kindly to us. I was close to resurfacing, yet somehow I was able to escape before my time. For it had been you prophesied to return first, lead all to redemption." Draco, Maegcair to Hermione, looked upon the faces of Blaise and Ron, sympathizing with their confusion, hoping to explain all to the boys. Boys he hadn't noticed they still were. "They remain the same. Is it safe to let them know, or..?"  
"Not yet. Not while the pain of loss if still too deep. Help me stand, this body is still too new to me." Hermione reached her delicate hands to Draco's, standing upon remarkably unshaky legs for the first time. She looked to Ron, her dear friend, smiling though he looked at her in trepidation. "Ron you are known as?" He nodded, wanting to back away, hoping that no head trauma was dealt in bringing her back. "Well Ron, I am Lady Helkoreiel, or Hermione, as you may be more familiar with calling me. Maegcair, would you awaken yourself now, for I would like to remember my ties to these friends of ours?"  
Maegcair nodded in consent, eyes closing as he fought with himself to hold him, and yet the boy Draco which he resided in. They had to merge, needed to, if he were to survive. It wasn't his time, he knew, but he couldn't Sleep again, that being foreseen and established only by the Head of the Order, no other capable of Resting his Soul. Yet he, and Helkoreiel, could banish themselves to the farthest regions of their Chosen's souls, giving up their identities to intermingle with their Chosen, coming forth only when they were prophesied to. It was this which they needed to accomplish. No longer would they exist, but part of their Chosen they would become. Two souls in one being. There was no other way.  
Maegcair reached inside himself as he felt Helkoreiel do, reaching out to cradle their Chosen, bringing them out of hiding an into consciousness. He fought with all his might, almost slipping, yet successfully copying himself into Draco's essence, knowing he would only be the second half, and the boy the full being. Erasing himself was the price he was willing to take, knowing the Draco had to grow from being a boy into a man before he could call upon Maegcair to take over. With one last fleeting thought of staying, Maegcair sent all his memories into Draco, thus destroying himself.  
Draco opened his eyes to find himself lying on the floor. Blaise leaned over him, having been worried as he watched his friend cry out in agony, crumpling to the floor. "Blaise...what?" Draco's eyes widened in surprise as his friend embraced him in a hug, a cry of relief the only indication given before he was pulled against the warm chest of Blaise.   
"It's you..again. I was so worried, you were gone...surely Alkhuan would have killed you..but then, oh Draco, you're you!"  
"What are you..oh. Oh! Hermione!" Draco struggled out of Blaise's arms, turning to look where he last remembered his friend laying for all worldly purposes, dead. He saw Ron holding onto Hermione's hand, pleading with her to wake. Draco rushed to her side, hoping she wasn't dead as she looked when he last fought with Alkhuan. Hoping she was somehow saved. Eyes blinked open as Hermione's hand flew to her head, holding back a groan of pain he knew she would surely feel. But how had she lived? Where were her wounds?  
Hermione looked into the worried faces around her, seeking out Draco's. "Oh, Draco! I remembered.. Lady Helkoreiel..she was.." A tear streamed down her face as Hermione recalled the Lady's parting words, her elegant voice soothing all her fears, gentle lips kissing her forehead as would a mother. "She died. For me. For us!" Draco nodded sadly, memories surfacing of what had occurred, yet no surprise he felt. Everything was..perfect.   
He smiled to her reassuringly, knowing she would understand the sacrifice in due time, knowing she would forget about it soon enough. She hugged Ron to her, happy to be reunited with the friends she had almost lost forever, not even having said her partings. Blaise tensed almost uncomfortably as Hermione pulled him against her, thanking him for helping to bring him back.   
"Thank you, Draco. If you hadn't remembered I would have..well.." She averted her eyes from his, knowing that it had all been so sudden. Death creeping around her even as she was again reaquanted with friends, Death always hidden, lurking unknown. How farfetched it had seemed only hours ago that it could all end so sudden.. all end because of one person.. "HARRY!" she cried out, jumping to her feet, trying to rid herself of Ron who held her back. He knew though she was healed, she couldn't properly move about so freely with all of her blood loss.   
"Where is Harry?" Hermione's eyes searched the room for her friend, not knowing what happened, what the outcome of his present attained. Surely they had been able to help him? She looked for any sign, eyes halting on the crushed wall, body strewn beneath it, unmoving. "Harry!" she cried out desperately, Ron letting her go as she ran to his side.  
They held back momentarily, all having witnessed the battle, all knowing that he had been destroyed from Draco's attack. All having felt it within themselves. Yet Draco couldn't help but feel torn as he watched Hermione pull Harry onto her lap, coaxing him out of slumber as her tears fell upon his face, bathing him of the blood spilled coating it. Ignoring that it was her own blood he had spilled that adorned him so. There was no possible way that Harry had come out unharmed from the attack, no possible way at all! Draco sighed as he sat opposite Hermione, eyes staring at Harry's smooth skin, again the pale skin so resembling Harry they had known, changed from the tan one the creature Alkhuan had. And no longer had Harry the wings that Alkhuan had possessed, his own black ones the only present against his back. Draco couldn't help himself from trailing his eyes along Harry's body, noticing that much of the muscles he had occupied stayed with him, yet still he looked delicate and fragile, not aire of power radiating off him as Alkhuan had. The clothing remained, though Draco could assume that such clothing was not a personal change so much as outward magic effecting objects. Still could Draco see Harry's creamy chest through the opened shirt. Lifting his eyes upwards immediately, Draco looked into the troubled eyes of Hermione, tears still running fresh.  
"What happened here?" She looked to her three companions beside her, all heads cast to the side, eyes avoiding hers, none wanting to tell her the truth, ruin her hope. "What happened? Why is Harry..how?"  
"He killed you, Hermione. And I was able to free myself from my restraints. We fought, I won. That is all." Draco stared at the cloth he rubbed between his fingers, not able to stand looking into Hermione's disbelieving eyes.  
"But..but I saw him! He's alive! I know he is.." she looked to Harry, fingers trailing along his cheek. "Wake up..please.."  
"You.. saw him? How?" Ron looked to Hermione, focusing his gaze then to his fallen friend, not understanding how she could see Harry. She had been killed before Alkhuan was defeated.  
"In death." The whisper was barely audible, but it reached Ron's ears, and he could do no more than stare at Hermione, who now avoided contact with his eyes.  
"Death?" Blaise questioned, disbelieving. There was no possible way..none whatsoever.  
"I saw him. As I walked down the stairs, it came to me, that if I walked far enough, struggled enough, I would find Harry at the end of my journey...locked, chained, to a wall, defeated and slumped. It would take forever, they told me, but I knew I could save him, help him to escape. He wasn't dead, yet he was trapped in Death. He could only be saved with help." She looked to Blaise, begging him to believe her. It wasn't a dream. Hermione knew she had died, knew she had ventured into the boarders of a different Realm. As she descended the golden stairs, light vanishing with every step, Harry had stood before her, naked, beaten, his aura paling as he fought for freedom. And he had looked into her eyes..pleaded with her, begged, without words, for her help. But Hermione hadn't the time to save him before Draco started the ritual to bring her back. Then had she met Lady Helkoreiel...the Lady..  
"Was he ok? Where in Death was he? Surely he is coming back?" Draco clasped her hands in his own, drawing her attention away from her gathering memories and into the troubles that surrounded her now. Shaking her head, Hermione gazed into his troubled orbs, trying to answer his questions without voicing them. It was too soon..still too fresh in their minds...  
"No.." Draco shook his head, denying her answers. Harry couldn't be lost! Couldn't have met demise by his own hand.. No, Draco couldn't have killed Harry. Not Harry..  
"I'm so sorry, Draco.." Hermione reached her hand to comfort Draco, but he pulled back, rising from his seat, denying her still. She knew it would happen, hadn't understood how, but knew that Draco would blame himself if Harry never returned. If he was truly dead. But he couldn't be! If he had fallen after her, and she had reached Death, started her journey, met him, saw him, all when he fell, surely he was still alive? It just didn't make sense to her. He had to be alive..there had to be hope.  
"Ron!" Hermione's voice startled him out of his inward contemplation. Raising his face to acknowledge her, Hermione's intense eyes shook him to his core. "Get Snape. Now!"  
"But Hermione.." Ron tried to reason with her. Harry was dead, he could feel it, they all could feel it. When Draco had let loose the light arrows, he had watched as they struck Harry all over, right through his heart. He had felt the arrow destroy Harry's body, had felt life slip from Harry's fingers, had felt his death. And yet Hermione dared to raise all of their hope, claiming Harry lived when all she based it on was her delusions as she lay dying, stuck between plains? It was unfair to them, wounds so deep, so new. And he was stretching them farther until one of them snapped.  
"Get Snape now. Trust me. Please?"  
Ron ignored Blaise's incredulous stare as he rose, knowing that he would ultimately regret doing Hermione's bidding by bringing Snape into their situation. Looking around the room at all the destruction, blood, loose magic, open windows, soaked furniture from the rain, Ron knew something would happen when Snape walked through the door. Their very lives would change so drastically once Snape saw what Ron still couldn't come to terms with. What would Snape do when he saw the body imprint where Hermione had laid, what he would say when his eyes fell upon Harry, soaked in his own blood, millions of wounds, pale as Death? Shaking such thoughts from his head, Ron stepped back, turning in his step, walking with all the weight of his friend's eyes boring into his back, stepping over the threshold with pain, then running as if Devils were at his very heals, to Snape's room.  
"Why, Hermione?" Draco, huddled in the corner, trying to distance himself from his friend, the friend he killed; whispered his protest to Hermione. She narrowed her eyes at his ruined composition, loss and submission present on his face, forlorn and in despair.  
"Because I believe," she stated. Wiping tears from her eyes, Hermione pulled Harry off her lap, lying him on the ground where she started to unbutton his shirt. Her fingers stilled as strong tan ones helped her in ridding Harry of his clothes, yet thankful that Blaise was coherent enough to be able to help her in this desperate situation. Shirt pulled back, all of Harry's wounds were present, blood soaked against his white skin, such a contrast only too beautiful to look upon, yet a twisted painting made to display the beauty they saw. Such surrealism seamed fake, seemed that it was not Harry lying beside them, not his blood drying on their clothes, not his dead body beneath their fingers.  
Hermione brought her wand to her fingers, amazingly still intact, cleaning all blood from his skin. No longer could they perform such a ritual as Draco had on her, too many lacerations adjourning Harry's frame, to be sealed with only the three of them. But Snape could help. Hermione knew not how, only that he was a key to their success. For had he not given Harry the potion to help him, even though he knew not what troubled Harry so? He could help if only to let Harry reside in a new environment, away from such a taint as the room held, such unrestricted magic that was left after the intense battle.  
Hermione gazed ahead of her, eyes watching battles fought, watching herself vanquish foe that stood against her. "Tempora mutantur, nos et mutamur in illis." [1]  
Blaise looked to her, watching her eyes take a hallow change, knowing she was lost inside her memories, but of what, he could not guess. She had been through so much. Her, Draco, and Harry. How had they changed so? From friends he knew so well, to foreign beings that radiated power and confidence, all somehow connected to each other? Yet, how had Hermione and Draco remained true to his side, while Harry's new persona had tried to kill them? It didn't make sense..none of it did. If they could change, why hadn't he changed? Why hadn't Ron? And who where they changing in to? It disturbed him to a point to know that there was another who could manipulate and control him, another to share his body.   
Blaise clutched Harry's cloak between his fingers. The wounds were healed, having been done so by Hermione. Yet there remained no change in Harry. His body still pale a snow, face unmoving. A deep calm had overcome him, an understanding, though he could not give voice to it, that all was over. He blinked his eyes to focus, his gasp of surprise startling Hermione out of herself. Where once was nothing, now Eadem moved, showing his presence by climbing up his master's body, looking into the face of his Other. Was Harry alive, for Eadem to still stay by his side?  
Hermione stared, transfixed, by the snakes presence. Eadem had remained by Harry even when he was Alkhuan, knowing that there was chance to save Harry. And here he remained, knowing that there was still a chance to save Harry. "Eadem.." Hermione looked into the eyes of the snake, somehow knowing that everything would be fine. Knowing that Eadem could bring Harry back. But only if they had help, help of a higher privilege then themselves. For though they were accomplished magicians, Eadem needed the hand of a Master, one who knew the waves of magic through years of experience, one like Harry. Hermione shifted as Eadem's eyes remained locked on her body, not understanding his curiosity with her. He spared no glance to Blaise, needing not look to him to know there had been no change. Could he see that she remembered herself in a previous lifetime?  
The door to the corridor was flung open, menacing figure blocking the entryway as a shadow outline was seen through what little light illuminated the room. Snape stepped cautiously into the room, eyes flitting all over as he took in the situation Ron had prepared him for. Never had he assumed such destruction as he saw before him. Death hung in the air, a smell familiar to him through his long years as a Death Eater; the scent perpetrating all his senses, casting his eyes to search for the loss of life. Before him sat Hermione, covered in what he could only guess was her own blood, and that of the body that lay next to her. Blaise was unharmed, not having been in any situation that entailed his hurt. Yet Draco was gone, unnoticed in the shadows under Snape's keen eyes.  
Snape understood what had come to pass. As much as it had been drilled into his head by the Headmaster, he never thought he would live to see the day that an Ancient was reawakened. He gazed into the changed appearance of Harry, knowing that though he seemed himself, he had been awakened by a greater force from inside. His hand reached into his robe, a black box pulled out, reflecting millions of colors around the room in it's brilliance. Taking careful aim not to make the Ancient aware, Snape triggered the box, pushing once side in and throwing it above the defeated Harry, it's sides caving in on itself, all that was left being the millions of colors centered in one present sphere. Hermione and Blaise jumped back as lights shot out from the circle, creating a cage around the still Harry. Lightening rods shot out to encircle him, recognizing his presence as the great threat it was needed for. No movement was seen from Harry as electricity coursed through his body, waves of it pulsing in his veins. Draco cried out as he watched Harry's body pumped of lightening, bars created by the mysterious light trapping Harry in, keeping him out.   
As Harry's body lay unmoving, the light halted in it's flashing upon the fallen boy of it's victim. The lightening bolts retracted into the beautiful rainbow sphere hovering over the scene, black walls coming out of nowhere to enclose the sphere in a cage and ensure it's safety; floating back into Snape's outstretched hand. With a simply flick of his wand and a command, the limp form floated into the air, following behind Snape as he walked to his own room. Draco, Hermione and Blaise walked behind their fallen friend, hoping for the best. If he ever reawoke, then they would know if their companion was still changed, or back to the friend they cared for so.  
Stopping in front of the portrait, the two waited for Snape to mutter the password so that they may enter. Upon walking into the room, they found Eadem silently awaiting them on the bed, leaning over Harry as he was placed on the bed. Settling himself on Harry's chest and concentrating, Eadem began to heal Harry and return him to his previous being. Snape watched on with sympathy in his eyes, seeing the four children huddled around Harry's bed, hoping he would still survive. He knew there was nothing left, he had given his all. If the box could not bring Harry back to the living, he knew not what could.  
"Professor, will he live?" Hermione gazed into his eyes, her hope making him wish it were not his burden to be connected so to these five students.  
"Omnia vincit amor,"[2] he replied, exiting the room to find the answers they all sought.  
  
  
  
_Serpent and Mist  
_**_  
_**Red-horned serpent,  
I cast you from my dreams  
Where you revel in my broken tears  
And bathe in my pain.  
I lie awake in your arms,  
Your sobs rack my conscience  
With insecure nightmares:  
I run--  
Hidden emotion will arise at will  
As it is wont to do, as you channel it through me.  
I lie asleep in your arms,  
Your chest damp with my blood,  
My sweat of our unbidden union,  
That fragile, slipping essence of merged souls  
Outlawed in disgrace.  
You hide--  
So we lie face to face,  
Nose touching nose, one-eyed cyclops  
Cringing in the sheltered circle  
Of our hand-fasted mourning bliss.  
You do not trust the power of the universe  
To support that which is fated,  
The clock-work movement of the stars.  
I curse--  
And you take my hand in your dark shadow,  
Writing words without permanence  
In the hollow of my palm; words of love,  
Words of destiny, trust, passion--  
Hope. A false hope that gathered dew  
In the early watch of the dawn.  
We lie face to face, serpent and mist,  
While I cast you out of the shadows  
And into the sea.  
  
_Dena L. Moore  
December 7, 2001_  
  
  
  
  
  
***********  
  
[1] "Tempora mutantur, nos et mutamur in illis." - Times are changing, and we are changing with them  
  
[2] "Omnia vincit amor." - love conquers all  
  
**********  
  
Sorry for the delay!!!!!


	9. Antediluvian Inn Pictures

After the horrible delay of my friend's scanner actually haven been broken for some months now..it took me 3 hours to find someone who had a scanner that I could use. But I found one! And though I sent the pictures out late last night, I've already got a link to them! Everyone love Professor Z right now! The pictures are pretty big on the links, but if you cant see them then just copy and paste them into your Word Document. That should cut them down to size. There's probably a way to make them smaller on the site that I'll inquire to Professor Z about. [Unless you read this first] Also, though I don't have the links from Ski, I should get her email sometime in the mere future, then I'll post those links to her Deviant Art site. So check this post for updates sometime soon! The first one is black and white.. which is completed. The second is the colored, which features only Harry and the girl. [I personally think the pencil one is better.] Anyways, I hope you guys like them..and that they aren't too different from what you might have pictured!   
  
Links:  
[Ok! For some reason, no matter how many times I've uploaded this onto FF.Net, it still wont show the links..so please just add http:// in front of the links, and .com after ninesoft.because nothing else I do is working.]  
  
Hopefully now you'll be able to see the links!  
  
hpweb.ninesoft /AeternusNoctem/pic1.jpg hpweb.ninesoft /AeternusNoctem/pic2.jpg  
  
Enjoy!  
Remii 


	10. Epitaph of Creagan

  
Warnings: Harry Potter and Crew belong to J.K. Rowling, I make no profit  
Some of the writing may come out disfigured, I apologize  
I do not own Shakespeare's writing  
Also, I do not have a Beta Reader for this, so I'm sorry if there are mistakes. If you find some, please tell me in your review.  
The poem and chapter title are of the epitaph of Creagan the Destroyer, a mythical madman who had brought the world under his power and to its knees many times, only for it to be saved by a band of freedom fighters. Quoted by Avathar Valcana.  
  
~I am invincible! Actually, I'm just completely better now. Or so I say. Just in time for Hanukkah and Christmas! I want to apologize to everyone for taking so long! I had to bring in a crew of people to translate my soda smudged chapter, but we got it figured out! Then I fell sick. And puked on lots of people at a concert..which I think Lu-Lee so nicely informed you of. This chapter is short. Only 6 or 7 pages. But I wanted to get something out before everyone tracked me down and killed me... ^^;;  
It's not as good as the other ones..and you'll be surprised with what I ended up doing. Why, I don't know. I just did it. It will make everything so much more complicated, but I'm an idiot, and I do things that make me regret my past actions! Like I believe Rowling said [or along those lines], I am deeply sad to have a death in my story, and hope that not many people are mad about it.  
  
  
  
*** There are so many people I have to thank now! Even though I hadn't been updating, you all still reviewed me, and I'm so grateful!  
  
  
Capn-BlackRose: I'm so glad you've liked it, and awfully sorry for the delay! Hopefully I won't have the world against me when I write the next chapter!  
  
amiee:Picture is served! I hope there wasn't too much confusion with the links, I'll try them again in this chapter.  
  
Shunsoku: Oof. That is a lot of drugs. I hope you feel better if you're sick! Reading your review makes me really want to reread my story. I kept asking myself, 'I have a plot line??' 'I have plot twists???' I guess it's sad I don't know my story that well...or don't know what I'm doing with it that intrigues people. ^^;; Aah! I love both those scenes. I wanted Hermione's death to just be so beautiful it would take your breath away. And I wanted to inn-keeper's scene to be just so tragically bad you couldn't help but cry. I don't think I did too well with either of them. ^^;; I too am wondering where I'm going to go. I have the ending scene in my head. But my build up to it... that's not quiet planned out. I'm, for now, just going with the flow!  
  
biblios: I hadn't even thought of that scene! I guess I should make some more pictures if time allows me to, since now you guys only know what Harry looks like. If I had a better grasp of working with color, or had a computer program to color in my pictures, I would definitely do that scene, because I cant imagine it without some sort of color that would have to radiate off Harry.  
  
striped-jaguar: The infamous stripes strikes again! Yes yes..be smug. You deserve to. -stick tongue out- Next time I just wont do a pic! Hah! Hopefully this chapter sees you in good health, I worry when you don't leave me horribly long reviews. I just live off them! Compromises are great, mm? If you hadn't of told me to draw what I wanted do..this project would have been much more complicated! Many thousands of millions of thanks to Stripes for letting me do as I wished! I did as you asked, and made Harry's wings a big part of the picture. At first I had thought to only show part of them, and make them faded into the shadows as described in the story, but you would have been only able to see a little part of them. Plus, since you wanted wings, I was able to make the whole picture lighter, and I was much easier to draw that way! Ughh...drawing the girl as an old witch? I shiver with the thought. She was horrible looking in my head..and I wouldn't want to draw that ugliness of paper.... Tattoos! Someone remembered the tattoos! [Did you forget that Harry was also naked in that scene? -smirk-] I drew the eyes without pupils for dramatic effect. Plus, I couldn't get them to look right with pupils. Urg. Color. You will be the end of me Stripes!!! I never work with color if I don't have to. Only in paintings.   
And I do!! I fear Stripes wrath, so I hope you enjoy the pictures! Mm. Sugar. I need that right now! Much love and many thanks!  
  
Luna Aelf Writer: I just love it when people find the simplest, yet most beautiful scenes to draw! That scene is definitely on my top five to draw if I ever get the time!  
  
Unclear-Destiny: Thanks oh so very much for the compliment! I had suggested, in Chapter the Ninth, that since I was being very slow in getting the chapters out, I'd draw a picture to make it up to all reviewers! I posted the link in chapter 10, but I don't know if anyone can make it out, so I'll be posting it in this chapter, and if it still doesn't work, you can go check out my reviews list, because Professor Z wrote the links in her review. Hope you enjoy this chapter!  
  
WITCH WERE: I hope you haven't stopped breathing all together! My fic was actually recommended? Really? Wow. I never would have expected it to be good enough for people to spread it around. It's such an honor that people would want their friends to enjoy it also! Don't worry, I'll keep that just between you and me. And you're recommending it! I'm so grateful! I really hope whomever you recommend to to will enjoy it! [perhaps that why I've received so many new reviewers as of late! Many thanks!] I hope you enjoy the links I posted! Cookies! Yesh, I love cookies! Please, have a cookie for telling others of my fic, and also a cookie to whomever told you of my fic!  
  
striped-jaguar: Awww. Such a small comment. But I will not complain! No sirree! You've given me so many long reviews that I should be grateful you even read my fic anymore! Life is a bitch, and hopefully my bad streak is over. Enjoy the pics!  
  
ProfessorZ: Many many thanks for the pictures!! For some reason, every time I posted chapter 10, [which I must have posted 20 times] the links would never show. I took out the http:// because I figured it was stopping them from appearing. Then I took out the .com because http:// hadn't worked. Hopefully if my instructions to add in the http:// and the .com weren't too confusing. I'll add your links and Ski's to this chapter. I hope they show up! I'm so glad you enjoyed the pictures!!  
  
sakoi kai: Why thank you! I really needed to reread my story and get back into it, and now that I have..I'm wondering how _I _could write something as nice as this story!  
  
striped-jaguar: I'm so happy you like them! After all.._you_ did request them in the first place. It took me awhile to do, but I'm very happy with the way they turned out..even if I hate color drawings.. I made him with pupils at first..then realized how utter horrible he looked with them..so I took them out. Besides, I think he needed the whole ghostlike eyes...makes him more disturbing..lol. Oh the toothaches!!! How I welcome them! Your very much welcomes, stripes my dear!  
  
DF-default: Mon dieu! This story just popped from the depths of my mind, and has no story preceding it. Does it seem like it does? I guess it could.. Wow..only the second? I'm honored! How did you topple onto my story? I know there must be millions of stories out there..cool that you somehow got [stuck] with mine. I hope it keeps you facinated, and that I don't lose you like I've lost some others because of its darkness.  
  
Review #2: It did have to be Earl Grey! I thought that I had made Dumbledore so different then he should be..that I just needed to add something in it that was like everyone else's portrayel of him. That just happened to be that horribly nasty Earl Grey. I've never had it, but from what you've described, I don't think I want to... I'm sorry that I've made you somewhat depressed. It wasn't my intention...sortof..completely.. Ok.. so I wanted my reviewers to get into my complicated dark mind and truly experience what I was putting into my story. Heh. Goth wannabee. Really? Hope you come out of your fump..and if it takes stop reading my story to get there..so be it!  
  
Review #3: There is no name for the Inn. It was the just the antediluvian inn. It was so run down and unused that it didnt even need a name. It was known for just being there. Mm what a good song! The scene can be depicted from that song. Even if it is a little too upbeat for it.. I don't know if I'll get into any romance. I highly doubt it, if not for subtle friendly romance. If there will be any romance, it'll be in the last scene, at the very end.  
  
***  
  
Chapter Eleven: Epitaph of Creagan  
Æternus Noctem  
Harry kneeled down next to Alkhuan, eyes trailing over the destroyed body before him. It was over; Harry could slowly feel himself dying, his heart slowing; breathing shallow; yet none mattered. Here he stood for centuries, universes created, universes destroyed; and all his time seemed so short as he watched the gentle rise and fall of Alkhuan's chest. Alkhuan would be the first to release his worldly ties; chains broken from Draco's arrows. Arrows to save Harry. Arrows that now ensured his death.  
He could feel again, the sensation stolen by Alkhuan, his world making no sense since he could not connect to it. But he had seen. Seen and only now come to understand what had passed. The horrors of watching Hermione murdered had opened a door inside his soul he had himself barred. And oh how he hated her. Spited her. Prayed for her to experience the pain of each layer of skin sliced open over and over. Yet not so strong were those emotions to conceal that he wished she still remained alive. He could not shed tears for her, them remaining, still, only for himself, not his to give to another.   
And why had Alkhuan brought them back, forced Harry to save them, if only to die without accomplishing what he sought out to do? All that Harry could not. Was it his choice now? As Alkhuan so had determined they would live, not it was Harry's burden to distribute the grace of life, or the sleep of death? Heavens could not rain his sorrow, Gods could not cry his frustration, his self trapped so within the desolate chambers Alkhuan had summoned him to.  
Alkhuan. The being Harry had come to hate, yet left more pain watching him die than Hermione killed. Was their bond so strong? Would he seek vengeance as Alkhuan had for him? Was his love for Alkhuan greater than his hate?  
"What would you ask of me?" Harry gazed remorsefully at Alkhuan, face so similar, lines so distinct, love so great. "I would not give a hundred prayers to live it all again. Though you beg of me, mince was a happy tale, encased in a coating of ebony, and you were by my side through all. No, I would not live it over, for it is complete before mine eyes."  
Harry leaned his head to the cool grout below, relishing how the warmth of his tears contrasted so with the sharp bite of frost held by stone. Could he still save Alkhuan? Harry searched Alkhuan's face for a sign of life; only present through the slightest rise and fall of his chest. Red droplets caressed the pale skin it touched, trailing from Harry's eyes to descend freely onto Alkhuan's cheek.  
"Show me," Harry begged, whispering, lips gently rubbing against the skin they lie upon. "For I cannot do it alone." He close his eyes, head rested upon Alkhuan's chest as he sought the answers not shown to him. "Be not silent!" Rage swept through Harry as he felt the heartbeat of his once foe diminish, mocking his attempts to free them both. Alkhuan had already given up hope, no faith rekindled through Harry's poor attempts. For the first time since the summer, panic diffused through Harry at the prospect of dying. This was not how it was meant to be! Not here, not now! For though he wished it now, others depended on him. His guidance, his strength, and his hate; the only means of killing those guilty, of extracting revenge. Of finally destroying Voldemort.  
Alkhuan's body lurched off the ground, a deep breath of air circulating oxygen through his body. He had heard the call of his true Harry, and had not the will in him to rebel. He looked into red eyes, so much similar to his own, intensity speaking words he could not virbally speak. With all strength he could gather, he reached his hand up to cup Harry's cheek, tears of blood flowing down his fingers upon contact.  
"Why cry you? I'm alright...I'm okay." Alkhuan stared transfixed as Harry turned his head away, unable to bear the sight and weight of Alkhuan's words. Pulling Harry's face back towards his own, Alkhuan looked imploringly into the now dry eyes. "You need my help."  
Harry nodded, resigned expression coming to tug at the corners of his face as he tried to gather himself; it had been so long since he was this deeply affected. The girl... no. He looked determinedly into the mused eyes of Alkhuan. His only hope laughing at his feeble attempts!  
"Lead me into temptation, for I will embrace the withering rose that smells so sweet, rather than fall as a feather, caught in Death's descent of a thousand hands."  
Alkhuan could only nod in reply under the intense gaze of Harry, message boring in to his mind. Such a favor Harry asked of him, yet surely Harry understood that his hate of the other Ancients was still greater than Harry's love for them? If Harry submitted, if Alkhuan were to recombine them, then his zeal of death would be no more subdued than before.  
"I love them." Harry leaned his face over Alkhuan's, eyes searching truth. "I love them." Alkhuan turned his head from the sight above him. Harry couldn't expect him not to kill them? Yet..  
Staring up into the face that had saved him, brought him from Death's grasp, Alkhuan knew. Reaching to capture the pale cheek in his palm, Alkhuan slowly pulled their faces together, as he had once done before. Gazing into closed eyes, Alkhuan smiled sadly. "As I love you," he whispered before closing his eyes, lips touching to Harry's in their last kiss.  
  
Snape threw open the door to the Headmaster's office, disregarding the hissing of painting at his lack of respect. The room was as Alkhuan had left it, furniture spelled back to where they should rightly be, yet Snape took no notice of any misplacements. His eyes, trained to stare so, wavered not an inch from the tired look Dumbledore's face portrayed. A tired look; an act, to save him the time slipping quickly from his fingers. Answers would be called for, words spoken which none could rightly word. Tales of ages dead, suddenly brought back to life. All was how it was prophesied to be.  
"Tell me!" Snape demanded before Dumbledore could utter a sound. "Tell me of all you have kept secret. Kept safe within you as you watched time pass by, watched them grow, watched them learn... watched them be hurt." Snape cradled his face in his left hand, right reaching out to feel the chair that he knew would be there. He sat with no importance, back bent as the torments of thoughts in his mind would not settle.  
"And what a story it is to tell..." Dumbledore sighed, giving in to the quiet thoughts that had always plagued him. Harry had been their savior. Their hope when all the world seemed lost in a barren wasteland of despair. Yet somewhere, somehow, in the minutest crevices of the land, under rock, pebble, grain of sand, in the infinite vortex of the sky, the strands of time had shifted. Suddenly. Unpredictably. The once beloved had faced a confrontation he had not started; the enemy had fallen bait. But how had this come to pass? Never before had Dumbledore stood without the answers. And yet, the emptiness which assaulted his mind brought for once in his life, peace.  
"This is no longer my time, Severus. I am old; stretched. I had lived too long, hastening to go, yet holding back to live. The mind is not meant to live after the body has died. I fear my time is over..." Dumbledore looked to the window, delicate rays of golden light balancing off the glass. Unheard to him was Severus's cry, his questions, his demands for answers.  
All sound had ceased to exist except for the internal pulse, lengthening, shallowing. Had it always been so simple? So easy? Why had he feared what Harry managed to escape? Did death ring so heavily in his ears that he sought a cure from it's implied disease?  
And now, gazing into the rays that would ultimately leave, casting those under it's influence to fend for themselves, Dumbledore couldn't help but laugh at his own insecurities, his own greed.  
"Yes, yes," he murmured, turning to face Snape with a smile that graces his eyes. "I believe it's time."  
"Albus, time?" Snape felt compelled to grasp the shoulders of his mentor, confused with childlike innocence as he sat, bewildered with the passing events.  
"I believe you will find all answers in my office, though they may be difficult to find. Never walk astray, keep your heart untroubled." Dumbledore gazed about the room, eyes saddening as he saw the defeated gaze of the forlorn, yet, understanding Fawkes.  
"Yes. Yes time," he whispered, low and indistinct; standing from his seat. No bends of age held Dumbledore towards the ground, his grave. Years were lifted from his shoulders as he stood tall, proud in all he accomplished during his life, though some choices were not the best. He cast no regret, finding none to need regret for. With all choices came consequences, and though few were bold enough to try them, Albus had always lead life with nothing to be disappointed for.  
"Severus." Who had sat in his seat, reverted back to the scared fifteen year old, banished from a life of friends, made to turn dark yet too afraid to enjoy it, stared at Albus Dumbledore with streams of tears falling from his eyes, rivers overfloaded in grief. "Severus, keep them well. Keep them safe. I have loved you all, and not one less for the choices we have made, the deeds we had done. I must go now; the second part of my journey beckons, and I fear I cannot resist any longer."  
With a slight shine to his eyes and an imperceptible nod of his head, Albus let go of the feeble strands he had clung to, spelled to himself with all his will power. Though they grew thin, though they grew tattered, he never released them, revering them with all he possessed. But he couldn't any longer.  
Snape could only watch, spell bounded, as the greatest wizard in all history disappeared before hs eyes. Transformed into millions of particles of golden dust, hovering over the headmaster's desk until the windows flung open, wind pouring into the room to scatter all traces, Dumbledore's whispered last words of 'Good-bye' hung in the air.  
  
Draco closed his eyes in the pure bliss of sleep, head snapping up to keep away the temptation of awakened death. Sleep of so close a nature to his end had always terrified Draco. Sleep in which you could control no outward action that lead to your ending, your demise, though you wished it not so. And how was sleep so different from the eternal rest that all must take? Would lying his head upon the pillow not account for his mental, is not physical death, for however long his mind shut down, rested? How was he to know if he never awoke again, trapped so in the confines of sleep? Would he live only to be whisked away by the one natural act that all kin must become accustomed to?  
"You must rest. For if not for yourself, than for Harry, when he awakes." Ron opened his eyes, no need to blink with the rays of sunlight directed into his pupils. He had rested all he could, body replenished, no need to over rest when there was a world out there that called him into action.  
"How do you know he will wake? How do you know I haven't...hadn't...that he will awake?" Draco turned his head from Ron's piercing sight, knowing he couldn't confront the man before him. Man. Such as Draco had always wished himself to be, yet here he struggled, pitting himself against his own actions. Had he not control over what he did? Submitted to the force inside of him? For what? To kill Harry? Since young he wished to kill a man, if not for the pure joy his father had always spoke of, but for the accent into his manhood. Token of life be the key into the unspoken club his father had always hinted at. So much had changed, and if not for the better than what? He had killed his leader, where was he to go now? What roads would he travels without his guide to lead him the way, his light in the dark of all life's tunnels. Nothing else matters...  
"He will wake. And when he does, he will look to you, and thank you. For if you had not pierced him with your arrows, Harry would forever be trapped in the Lair of Alkhuan. Would you wish him to be stuck so?" Ron stood, blanket dropped from his waste as he fixed his stare upon the once strongest of them all. Striding to Draco's side, Ron knelt, hands grasping at Draco's side, forcing the Dragon to look into his eyes. "Would you wish him to be a slave?"  
"I would wish him to open his eyes, to be graced with the emerald beauty I remember from times that seem so far!" Draco threw Ron's hands off his shoulder, body flinching from the loss of contact. He walked to the window, throwing open shudders that cut air circulation from his lungs, forced them to breath in the misused, hate-spited filled air.  
"But he has changed! You said it so yourself! Do you wish none of this happened? That you could change fate, bring back the Harry we all remember fondly?" Ron stared incredulously as Draco all but fell onto the windowsill, back slumped in defeat. He walked to stand behind Draco, hand once again fallen onto shoulder that needed so of his contact. No deep sigh was need to clear his throat, only soft whispered words needed for reassurance. "We cannot change what comes to play in life, Draco. All we can do is deal with what is dealt to us, and live life to the fullest though it seems naught but ruin. He will wake."  
"How, Ron, how? I killed him! I felt it in my hands, through my body." Draco rose arms to stare at his fingers, watching them covered in blood of his friend. The blood he had spilt. "I felt his heart stop, his magic dissipate. His life end."  
"And yet you feel inside you, though you push it away, the life force that continues to beat though you tried to put a stop to it." Draco and Ron looked to Hermione, no trace of sleep in the open eyes. "He is alive, and if you stop believing in him, Draco, he will surely die. You brought me back. If you lose sight, you will ultimately fail to bring him back." Hermione gathered her blanket about her cold body, the dungeons a frozen layer of stone, sharp pains sending tremors to wrack her frame. She pulled a chair along with her, resting it beside Draco, throwing the blanket over both their bare bodies. "Can't you feel it?"  
Draco looked into her pure eyes, untainted with the past 24 hours. Had her death truly brought her peace that she carried unto this world? Could he too see past the deadly demure of his actions and find within them light? He closed his eyes, feeling Hermione's fingers grazing over his face, pausing at his eyes, his nose, his cheeks, his mouth. Soothing his tired mind as he drifted off, seeking something that Hermione had inspired within him, yet guided by only himself. No help could be given to him.   
_Ancient._   
The word rung heavily through his ears, echoing off the walls of the grand hall he had walked in to. Elongated towers of vines held upon them shallow bowls of fire, lighting the walkway that would lead him into the throne of his mind. Had Hermione such an experience when she found within herself that which had been hidden away? Would he find within himself the force that had defeated Alkhuan with a mere blow?  
His feet thread softly upon the ground, leaves crunching under his coverless toes as he walked over the rug that lead to the door. Wind blows his hair from his face, no shield to cover him, keep him hidden from whatever sanctity or threat he would soon encounter. Taking in a deep breath as his hand reached for the door handle, Draco noticed through the corner of his eyes all fire go out, the wind howl as his fist clenched the knob, pulling it open though his whole body shook with fright.  
A blinding light shone from the door entrance, forcing Draco to cover his eyes lest he go blind. Humming drummed through his ears, a gentle beat to his heart, pulsing through his veins.  
"_Maegcair._"   
Draco turned to the source of the voice, eyes squinting in pain as he tried to see past the unyielding white around him. He had heard it before, a fuel to his fight with Harry, when all hope seemed lost within himself. It had saved him, cradling him in its safety though he had never before met it. A safety that Draco now felt blossom within his breast.  
"Maegcair," he replied, smiling though he knew not why he felt the sudden elation of joy in himself. "Maegcair!" he cried happily, rushing blindly forward, passing stands holding the white light, crystallized into millions of rocks, held in hands suspended through the air. All slowly shifted in place as Draco rushed by, settling back to their positions as he left them without a care, them not needed to him now, not when he had yet to call to them.   
Draco ran for what seemed like lifetimes, hoping, knowing, that he would soon reach the one person he wanted nothing but to embrace with. Tears flew from his eyes as the wind he created pressed against his body, carrying them away from his unmarked skin, landing on the crystals. Slight color changed rose up in the rocks, white shifting to blues and pinks, an unforeseen rainbow dazzling about their core.  
Draco slowed in his run, stopping when he knew he had reached the center of the throne room, the pure white chair before him holding the outline of a fading form, known only to Draco, though others had heard of him.  
"Maegcair..." Draco whispered, in awe of the man seated before him. Resemblance bore no default upon the two men; smooth porcelain skin and star kissed blond hair showing them to be brethren, if not one in the same. The Greek Sculpture before Draco smiled at him, reassuring all doubts within his mind. Opening his arms to the still boy before him, Maegcair beckoned Draco to him, hoping with all his might that his Holder would accept him, even though he had been born for the sole purpose of Keeping Maegcair's soul bound to the Earthly Plane. Draco could not reject his older self, his past self, though his mind fought frantically to tell him it was wrong.  
_"Can't you feel it?" Hermione pushed him to understand.  
_"I can feel you. With every pore in my body. Every cell thrums in your intakes of breath, vibrates in your exhalations. I know you in my heart, though we had met only once. I know your eyes, for they had calmed me when I was afraid, frantic in my battle with Alkhuan.." Draco stood before Maegcair who sat quietly, understanding and agreeing with all words spoken. A small smile graced Draco's features as he slowly sat down. "And I understand."  
Maegcair cradled Draco's body to his own, closing his eyes as he had felt Lady Helkoareiel do so before. Not would he take over Draco's body as Alkhuan had done to The Savior. Though it had taken him ages upon being trapped in Draco's body to understand, he could not forcefully replace his Holder. Together they could defeat Helkahir. Surrendering to the calling Draco had stirred within him ever since he had entered the Glade, Maegcair centered his mind upon Draco, letting go as Draco had done so before.  
  
Harry let his eyes open, though they burned with an indescribable fire. Objects held no structure for him, no contours to place definition. His throat, once key communicator, how throbbed with a dull pain, scorched from the inside, no longer capable of speech. Toes, though capable of movement, gave no other instructions to whether his legs worked, or were held still through the series of events that could have destroyed all means of movement. He finally was able to focus his sight onto the ceiling; so different from any he had seen before. Laced through the stone were millions of protection and defense spells meant to ward away all harm to whomever's room he currently occupied.  
Tentatively, so as not to alert anyone in the room, Harry painfully raised his hand above his head, flicking his fingers. As intentionally, but with more power than Harry had ever felt within himself before, all wards on the room cracked and disappeared without any protest. Had Alkhuan given him this power? Alkhuan...  
  Senses roaming the room, Harry felt the life forces of the four other occupants, capable of identifying them as his friends. He felt sorrow among all of them, though hope and love was just as strong. Hoping to notify them of his current attentiveness, Harry let his senses flow throughout the room, knowing that they would be able to feel him, if not hear his movements.   
Lifting himself up on his elbows, Harry was plummeted with knowledge from all corners of the castle. Falling limp, while drawing the attention of the others, Harry could only stare unblinking at the ceiling as Hermione, Draco, Ron, and the woken Blaise all crowded around him. Tears formed in his eyes as Hermione lifted his body to hold him to her, knowing he needed some sort of contact.  
Draco administered a glass of water to Harry's dry throat, soothing away the pain that he had mistaken for his broken vocal cords. Turning in Hermione's arms, Harry tried to lift himself up on shaking limps, trying to get away from the suffocating presence the bodies about him sent.  
"He's..oh god! Hermione.. please.. he's..!" Harry stood on knees that threatened to fall, trying to hold onto the shoulder's of a shaking Hermione, tears of joy spilling from her eyes as Harry was indeed brought back to them. Not able to take the burden of knowledge running through his mind, Harry collapsed, body falling to the stone floor, caught only by Draco's quick hands before he hurt himself more.   
Draco lowered him to the floor, wrapping Hermione's blanket about Harry's shaking body, not understanding what plagued his friend. He tired to feel Harry, find what was running through his head, but the torrent of emotions prevented him from finding out what caused such a reaction after Harry awoke. Surely it couldn't be Alkhuan's death that caused Harry to grieve so?  
Harry whimpered pitifully as he clung to Draco's shoulders, suffocation be damned. "Draco..hnn..oh gods, Draco.." he cried, fresh blood leaking onto Draco's clothing, though no thought was given to their cleanliness. "He's dead... he's dead!"  
"Who is, Harry? Tell me, who's dead?" Draco wiped the tears spilling forth from closed eyes, red staining Harry's pale cheeks though Draco tried fruitlessly to wipe them clean. His only reply was the fierce shaking of Harry's head, tremors wracking his body as Harry denied himself the relief of crying out loud.  
"Let him be," Hermione knelt by Draco's side, Ancient powers settled into her body, allowing her to understand Harry's grief through his rush of thoughts. "He needs to come to understand his own hate, and the underlying love he thought dead. Give him time."  
"But, Hermione," Blaise protested, his own emotions rushing to the surface. "What's happened, what's wrong?"  
Hermione looked to each face of her friends, knowing that they craved the knowledge to help. How had it all happened? Once everything had made sense to her, now everything was as confusing as learning to walk for the first time. Dare she tell them what even puzzled her? But looking into Blaise's earnest eyes, Hermione could not deny him.  
"Dumbledore is dead."  
  
  
  
  
  
_Epitaph of Creagan_  
  
  
For ages in my crypt I lie,  
Controller of men yet to die,  
Power to be rivaled by none,  
On the day I return as one;  
  
When land, sea, and stone are all rent,  
And the spirit of man is bent,  
A fighter for random beliefs,  
Will brave the quakes and corral reefs;  
  
To a land strange and long since gone,  
To right for me an ancient wrong,  
Destinies ruins he will search,  
An evil place where ravens perch;  
  
He is the one who has the skill,  
To bring me back from cold nights chill,  
Slayer of men, he conquers all,  
Traps are gone as he heeds my call;  
  
First as one, then as three I went,  
A blessing in disguise Kos sent,  
Evil unequalled in my time,  
The deed must be done on fourth chime;  
  
Insanity though some might say,  
I will come forth in the next day,  
Power over all will be mine,  
A cloud of ebony is the sign;  
  
Weep ye now, children of Feägurth,  
I come in rain, storm, fire, and earth,  
As four and one, you will greet me,  
For the worlds ending you will see.

~~~Don't kill me… but go see my pictures!!

seconds-of-silence.deviantart (add dot com here)

and 

(put http:// here)hpweb.ninesoft(insert dot com here)/AeternusNoctem/pic1.jpg

(put http:// here)hpweb.ninesoft(insert dot com here)/AeternusNoctem/pic2.jpg 


	11. Talmud of Jmmanuel

  
  
Warnings: Harry Potter and Crew belong to J.K. Rowling, I make no profit  
Some of the writing may come out disfigured, I apologize  
I do not own the poem used it belongs to Talmud of Jmmanuel 26:27 – , or Shakespeare's writing  
  
At this point I actually wonder if I have fans anymore. How long has it been since I updated? 2, 3, 4 months? I have no excuse! My account has been up and running. I have a beta reader. Everything is spiffy. I just came to a... standstill. I couldn't think of anything to write. I still don't know what to write!!!! This chapter may be short, or long, I haven't written it at this moment. Kind of just winging it. Hopefully I haven't lost all of you.   
  
If anyone has any plot ideas, I'm all ears.  
  
[ACTUALLY MY BETA IS ON VACATION, SO IF THIS HAS ERRORS, LET ME KNOW]  
  
MiniEinstein: I feel so unworthy of having fans. And yea.. I've completely outdone myself on taking my time! Urg. I'm happy, though, that you enjoyed chapter 10! And thank you for being a loyal fan from chapter 1 to 10!  
  
Stripes-Jaguar: Hold me, thrill me, kiss me, kill me. Somehow, you reprimanding me for taking so much time will make me crawl into a hole. Mayhap since you were one of the first to read my story, and stick by it, you leaving will be devastating.   
I'm happy that you enjoyed the pictures. Kinda hard to see them in all since they're so big, but I wouldn't mind sending them in a smaller version to you, if need be. Or to just make me feel better.   
Actually, I kept erasing the eyes because I couldn't get them right. But I did really like the ghost effect they gave off. So yes, yes I did do them for a purpose.   
  
ProfessorZ: Another I would keel over without! You've definitely been there from the beginning, even took in my pictures! I hope this chapter wasn't too late to keep you as a fan.  
  
Ski: Thank you so much for hosting my pictures! But why does everyone think I was bored when I drew this...? ;;; I'm an art major! Drawing, blah blah, art, is what I do! People are strange... Anywhoo, thank you for sticking by me and reviewing all chapters! Its really nice to be able to come back to writing and have reviews waiting for you.  
  
Unclear-Destiny: I don't think I've ever had anyone write me a bit of poetry in their review! Beautiful if I do say so myself. If you go to, I think?, chapter 9, at the end are links to the pictures that I drew. If you cant find them, I'll be glad to send you the links again. Hopefully with my taking up this story my ocean of neverending imaginings and pictures wont fail me again!  
  
aya hineshi: A new comer! Whats nice about new reviewers is you don't have to suffer through the wait that everyone else did... I'm glad you like it! Not all new readers like the fic. It takes a certain curiosity and intensity to understand and appreciate the fic. Hopefully you'll be around once I start getting chapter out regularly again.  
  
Chapter Twelve: Talmud of JmmanuelÆternus Noctem_The world has changed. I feel the stale taste of air brush my tongue with every breath. I feel the chaotic magic of the plants course through my veins, barely stranded together. The thought makes my blood churn and heart quicken its pace. I know at this moment, I will die.  
But all was not how it seemed. Dragon Maegcair beckoned my spirit to his side from its Earthly Tomb, merging mine with the Sorrow-Hearted Brilhen and the Mind-Fury Culram. Together we drew such a power to be wielded by Maegcair and shake the foundations of the Earth. Yet win we did not. Our unity was not so great as to completely banish the Great Leader, the Dark Lord Helkahir. We could not purge the evil of the Earth. And so did the greatest wizards of the Ascafalas Reign fall to the hands of Helkahir.  
Yet not all hope was lost. In the last moments of his life, in his failing breath, Maegcair created a life form, Alkhuan. He would be the soul of us four conjoined, yet of his own mind. Greater than any Lordling, or even Helkahir himself. To ensure that we would have presence to guide Alkhuan, Maegcair cast our souls to the world, laying us dormant until a time would rise for the Final Battle to once again be fought. In this, children would be born of our makings, our shells, our holders, until Alkhuan awakens us. It will be that we shall lay in essence in these children, in their unknowing bodies until we shall once again fight the battle we failed during our own lives._

Non Omnia Possumus Omnes

Harry's eyes moved behind closed lids, the golden orb so carefully wrought by the heavens penetrating his room, blinding all open eyes. Yet Harry remained unconscious of the Sun's efforts in rousing him from his dream state, outwardly struggle none so much as to rouse the Dreamer of his Dreams. For Harry lie in his bed, in his very room with Eadem by his side, yet unawakened. His eyes searched for the draft that declared an opened window, and found none so ajar. The room was ill-lit with few candles illuminating their stands. The chill of the room forced Harry to stir from lying, lifting the heavy blankets that had not shielded his body from the cold. Circling the room, Eadem entwined about his neck, Harry probed the guarding shields, finding no taint to their perfection. Still unsure of the empty room, Harry's fingers glided over the cloth of the couch, magic spreading throughout the room to find any unwanted presence.   
A soft throaty noise from the once empty window disturbed Harry's concentration, head snapping to attention as his eyes focused on a cloaked figure in the window frame, pale hands grasping the wood, skin stretched too thin to cover all bone. The creature descended from its perch, standing to attention infront of Harry, ice fingers brushing fleetingly over Harry's forehead in recognition. It turned from him then, back to Harry's questioning gaze as it hunched its shoulders.  
"_And you would fight him yet_." A quiet whisper of dry paper rasping against itself, yet as loud as the thunderous roar of a squall threatening to crash upon the very existence of humankind. "_Love...is all one sees in your heart. You pain at his loss_." A faceless canopy of art turned to Harry then, unseen eyes searching Harry's every cell, presence trailing to the tip of his fingers and through his bones. "_I can reawaken him_."   
Harry stirred in his stance, knowing of whom the Shadow spoke. Alkhuan. Alkhuan who had sacrificed himself so that Harry may yet live amongst his friends. Alkhuan who have loved him with a hate so fierce as to pierce the hide of a Dragon to draw blood. Reaching to his chest, Harry now felt that deadened place within him where Alkhuan had been inside him. The resounding dull thud spread throughout his chest. Alkhuan was no more.  
"How am I to believe your word, Shadow?" Harry searched for the eyes that were absent, instead gazing intently into the nothing that the cloak covered.  
"_You have tasted Dark. You have wielded Hate. You have craved Blood. Are we so much different that you cannot take my word, Alkhuan?"_ The Shadow moved from Harry's side, circling round the room, the candles fading in its wake.  
"There is no promise you can make that I can fully trust, Voldemort's Own. How should I find trust in a nameless anomaly? You live with trust knowing there is no trust in all. You crave the blood that pulses in my body. You crave my flesh to weave a skin so beautiful that all would crave your life. Yet those I cannot give. Why shall I accept Alkhuan back when you crave him just as much as I do?" Harry pushed his fingers outward, the Shadow retreating from his magic.  
"_I can.. give you much more. Voldemort, Lord, wants you. Wants you and Alkhuan. But for love. He sees no hate in himself for those who were born from his existence. He wants you..to be with him_." The Shadow stood back, knowing Harry would see the words for truth.  
"How can Voldemort love?"   
"_You..must ask him when you may read the thoughts of his eyes, little Earthen Born_." With that, the Shadow retreated into the dark of the room, candles blowing into a cloud of smoke as he moved past them, retreating into the absence of light they created. "_Think of it, Earthen Born_..."   
Harry watched as it disappeared from view. As it left his Dream Sleep, he stirred to wakefulness, coming to open his eyes to the brilliant light of the risen sun and the shadowed faces of his friends and companions.  
"Do we find you well, Harry?" Hermione searched his eyes, curious as to the new light in them, his new understanding that he hid from her.  
"You find me waking from a Fate sleep, and of much needed rest and talk. I have seen sights that would chill the skin from my bone had Alkhuan not occupied my body, and seek your council, Lady Helkaoreiel." Harry touched a finger to her forehead, Hermione's eyes knowing that he asked of an inquiry to her God-Touched side.   
"I am always here for you, Alkhuan, Harry. I am one with Lady Helkaoreiel. Yet you might be surprised to discover that the Dragon Maegcair has too arisen from his timely sleep." She inclined her head to Draco sleeping on the chair not too far from his own bedside.  
"And what of Brilhen, Culram?" Harry sat in bed, seeing past Hermione's shoulders to the other occupants of the room, both asleep as Maegcair.  
"They have yet to wake. I fear Brilhen will come only if his need great. For he still inside him carries the pain of Lady Vethule. A memory which we never gave to you." Hermione sat astride Harry's bed, hand brushing the bangs from his face as a Healer tending a young patient. "Some happenings we did not want you to experience and carry within you. It is enough that Brilhen knows the true pain of what transpired. He need not place it as a burden on you also."  
"I understand your care. But who was Lady Vethule? Her name resounds through my mind as a ghost. See through and transparent, silky and smooth, and hard to grasp." Harry reached to Hermione's hand, holding it within his own. "Tell me, Helkaoreiel. I wish to know of whom I was created, even if it involves pain."  
"Lady Vethule was Brilhen's wife. She followed him in his every stride. Never once complaining of his fate to fight Helkahir, never once dwindling in love. Yet it was her fate to be captures by the Dark Lord's lordlings and brought to our once proud Castle of the Pure. He strung her about the highest peak, from the tallest tower, bound in harsh cords. She was a plain sight to see, all for miles around capable of seeing her strangling figure. Yet not once did she lay down her head from pain, but held it proud, declaring her love for Brilhen and our Side as the Dark Lord lay slaughter to her once beautiful body." Hermione wiped the tears that strayed from her eyes, unused to telling the story of the past which was hers in every sense. "Brilhen carries within him a sorrow filled wind that Blaise does not yet understand. I fear for the day when Brilhen awakens and the Ocean of Sorrow overtakes Blaise. I fear for us all."  
Harry long sat gazing at Blaise's restful face, tracing the lines of worry that carved their mark into his once flawless skin. The sad frown of his mouth which had never a need to perform any emotions but a smile. Had Blaise already experienced some of Brilhen's endless grief? Had he already known the death of his love?  
"And Ron, what of Ron?" Harry asked after a long moment.  
"The Gods fear Ron. Or, in his place, the Gods fear Culram. His love for me drove him to insanity. He was the sole ruin of his clan. Of our allies. It is Culram the Berserker that drives fear into the heart of the Dark Lords, and into the heart of the descendants of the Castle of the Pure." Hermione stood from the bed, holding her hand to Harry.  
"You have had Visions, you say? Well these Visions are not to be ignored, and we must speak of them alone, without the ears of Maegcair about us. Will you come with me to the Lake?" Harry gazed up thoughtfully at Lady Helkaoreiel for a moment before nodding his head in agreement. As the sun shone behind her back, Harry could almost envision the battered armor of a long war clinging to her frame, long hair blowing through the wild wind as it screamed in the battle's rage. He could almost feel the magic flowing from her powerful core. He could almost see the true Lady Helkaoreiel.  
"Well, and are you coming?" She asked, reaching her hand out further, breaking the sight Harry had been entranced by.  
"Yes, I am by your side always."  
  
Blaise opened his eyes to the vibrations of the entrance portrait closing. Lady Helkaoreiel. That was a named bestowed upon Hermione more than once. And by Harry and Draco. Ron seemed to not understand why his friends referred to each other as such, confused a much, if not more so, than Blaise himself. And Hermione had called Harry Alkhuan, though Harry was himself, proclaiming Alkhuan dead. And it hurt, more than he was willing to admit that his friends spoke of this to none but themselves. Had they lost faith in his endeavors? Was he not skilled enough to suit their need? But it had started with himself and Draco. It was they who felt Harry's plea within their souls, they who sought his friendship to help him. Why then was he excluded from further help? Why had he not found his own name, God, past, Ancient, of his own?  
And yet, of all, why had it pierced his heart and stopped his breath to hear the name Lady Vethule? The name was at all not familiar to him, yet he knew the feeling Harry spoke of. It was imprinted in his mind. A ghost of a memory not capable of being recalled, but there nonetheless. And though it was a memory of his own, he was not able to remember it.   
Though Hermione spoke of her life, or Brilhen, of himself, he could not place together the tangled web of his sporadic thoughts. He was Brilhen, Brilhen was to Lady Vethule, but Brilhen was not himself, Blaise? Such were the words in his mind, such he could not comprehend.  
And why had Hermione's voice trembled when she spoke of Ron? Ron who she adored and loved her just as much. Had she lost her love for him? Had she grown weary of his love for her? Ron was not such a man to loose all sense of himself because of Hermione's rejection, if he loved her more than a friend at all. But throughout the course of their schooling at Hogwarts, with all the events of Alkhuan, Eadem, Dumbledore, not once did Ron show any outwardly feelings to Hermione. Blaise was almost undeniably sure that Ron loved Hermione as a friend. Why then did the Gods quake in his spoken name? Why had the Ancient's allies been no more because of Ron? Why was Culram feared?  
Blaise closed his eyes in anger. Anger from his own misunderstandings, and anger at his friends for not helping him when he wanted only to help them in return.  
Brilhen.  
Brilhen.   
Brilhen.  
Why did the name shudder throughout his body, call to him. Force him to wonder. Was he to know this Brilhen? Was he truly one with Brilhen?  
If so, why had Brilhen shied away from Blaise's own calls? Why did he care so little about his descendent if only to leave him in wonder when he could complete him? Why did it hurt Blaise inside to think of abandonment by a legend? Was this what Hermione spoke of?  
"And yet you feel inside you, though you push it away, the life force that continues to beat though you tried to put a stop to it."  
"Can't you feel it?"  
"I can feel it Hermione. Though I don't believe it yearns to be felt as you described it. Brilhen will Sleep inside me."  
"As Culram will Sleep inside me until he is needed." Blaise started at the sound of Ron's voice. "Hermione has spoken true of fear. I fear the presence inside me though I should embrace it. I fear it as I fear for Harry's death by Draco's hand during their fight. Though, I am scared to believe that I killed so many because of blind love," Ron looked into Blaise's eyes. "Am I right to fear myself?"  
"I don't know, Ron. Should we be kept in fear by our friends?"  
"We seek to keep you from questioning yourselves," Draco spoke, his eyes still closed, sitting in his chair.  
"Hermione was right. All should speak away from the ears of Maegcair." Blaise shifted on the couch, disturbed by Draco having assumed control of the conversation.  
"Lady Helkaoreiel is to what you should refer to her as," Draco watched idly as Ron turned away in anger and Blaise sighed without control.  
"Well, and what should we refer to you as? Are you Draco? Are you Maegcair? Are you not friend but foe, you must tell us these things Ancient!" Blaise stood, pacing from the couch. Without Hermione to silence him with a look, Draco was much more open to speaking in the presence of his friends.  
"I am Draco, Blaise. You of all hold such knowledge. And we are friends, all of us. Yet, I am Maegcair without any doubt in my mind. But such does not change who we are together. I remember times that no one remembers, because part of me lived it. And so did part of you too." Draco moved to Ron's side, tilting his head with his hand, to look into the defiant eyes of the Berserker.   
"You, Ron, should fear no fear. With you on our side, we were undefeatable in the Final Battle. It was your love for Lady Helkaoreiel that gathered your clan to our side. Your love that held strong the ties between wizards and other magical beings." Draco gazed sadly into the all too familiar eyes that shone back at him, seeing Culram emerge from within. "Yet, you too should understand the pain that Culram caused to himself and others. If you claim no other love for Hermione then that of friendship, hold it to your mind if you so doubt yourself in the future."   
"I have for many a day felt Culram inside me. I wished not to alert any of his presence rising, for you all seemed to gaze strangely upon me. But I think, within my heart I know, that we are more different than similar." Ron held Draco's hand, grasped between his own as his eyes searched frantically through Draco's, trying to explain his loyalty. "I believe with every fiber of my being that I can tame him when he so chooses to birth himself in my body. I know his past actions will effect not mine of the present day. I will control the Berserker within myself. Control mine own blood with as much craft as given from my ancestors."  
"I believe you Ron. Believe in you. Culram was not so gentle with words or feelings. Too caught in his clan politics to find ties to humanity other than force. But you, Ron. In you I see Ronald Weasley. And I see the concentration of a young man that will do anything to prove himself. Had Culram awakened at this moment, you would not stir a hair, controlling him as you see fit. Blending your power with his own, capturing your past.   
Come, Ron, Blaise. I will help you all I can in learning how to control the Ancient inside you, and in calling them to Life."  
  
Hermione sat by the edge of the water, fingers trailing gently above the surface as not to create a ripple, but feel the cool bite of the liquid beneath her hands without a stir. Not a being stirred beneath the surface, no unearthly creation of the water's deep came to greet the pair of Ancients. All sat silent beneath the protective cover of the water's mouth, awed and fearful of the two unworldly figures that graced their presence.  
"I feel temptations within me. Temptations that I could not bare to accept, but cannot live without." Harry looked upon the water which had haunted his dreams. Drowning him in it's depth. Smothering the flickering candle of his life.  
"I cannot tell you what is right from wrong. Friends from Foe. I can tell you of your creation, how you came to being, why Voldemort performed that certain spell on you, what changed inside you by it. But I cannot choose for you." Hermione looked to Harry, watching and waiting for his response.  
"But these answers I have. Maegcair created me. Harry birthed me. Voldemort envied me. Alkhuan changed me. These I know! But it is these I cannot grasp. I cannot foretell what is expected of me. Hermione," Harry turned to her, grasping her hand. "I cannot deny that the darkness within me has not grown from Alkhuan. Through his life I have felt things that I would never have experienced otherwise. And.. oh Helkaoreiel, I cannot say that I am left undisturbed by such events!" Harry stood, walking into the water of the lake, turning to face Hermione. "I know inside I wish to breathe in the hate and evil that Alkhuan circulated through me. I wish to be part of Voldemort's side, part if his essence! Yet, when I gaze into your eyes, I hate that part of me, wishing with disgust that it weren't so. Realizing that the love in me is strong enough to prevent myself from temptation. But it is there Hermione. It is there. And that is enough." Harry shed his cloak, tossing it to the water's edge and Hermione's side as she gazed on, unblinking.  
"You are not alone in your thoughts Harry. All who live through such a time as we think with such a disturbance. Tell me of your dream. Your vision." Hermione pulled the warm cloak from her shoulders, stepping into the piercing frost of the lake, joining Harry by his side.  
"I was sleeping, but awake. I walked but was still. And Voldemort's Spawn was at my side. He promised redemption. Promised power. Promised Alkhuan. For he is dead within me Hermione, and a loss I could not know until he was gone. And I was tempted! Tempted to turn my side for Alkhuan. For he is an unexpected weakness none could foretell." Sinking to his knees, Harry's body shook from the cold of the lake, dragging Hermione into it's grasp. "Tell me Hermione. Place your troubles onto me, for I will carry it to another time, another place, another world. If only you would tell me what it is I need to know."  
"I cannot, Harry. I cannot! I can only hope that you will choose a side that needs you. Loves you. You are a part of us all, Harry. It is us in you that whispers through your mind, creating your thoughts. Us who are the soul of your power. Us combined that created your life. And we would have it no other way. I only hope that in your despair, you can still see that." Hermione rose from the lake, walking to the dry shore to gather her cloak. "Find true love within yourself, Harry, and you will find us."  
  
"This is unexpected and surreal, Draco. I am unsure if I can fully embrace the memories trapped within my soul accounted from what Hermione told Harry." Blaise sat upon velvet of the finest touch, coloured to the deepest wine, and still found no comfort in its soft embrace. Draco had related all he could recount of Lady Vethule's demise, triggering unspoken whispers in Blaise's mind. Triggering Brilhen to stir.  
"But this is you, Blaise. You are Brilhen. Created from his soul. Molded from his body. Formed from his failure. It is not yours to choose, for you will accept Brilhen by means of Merging with him, or succumbing to the fate of Alkhuan and Harry." Draco sat beside Ron whom understood the life inside him, before him. No doubt was in his mind of Culram's presence, yet no fear either. He had accepted the circumstances, and Culram would become his unconsciousness, a second power and memory to his own. Never would he allow the Jealous Ancient to run amuck with such a power as a Berserker.  
Yet Blaise could not help but feel the pains of Lady Vethule's loss creep through his bones and into his mind, creating a prominent cold no flame could dispense. For all he found was fear for his Ancient. Brilhen was the one sending the emotions, Blaise knew. Not so fear for his Ancient, but for the sorrow that his Ancient forced him to experience with no relent. Brilhen wanted not to be awakened.  
Draco could not distinguish through reasoning the causes of Brilhen's troubles. Could something have gone disturbingly wrong when he sent his friends into sleep? Even Culram lay waiting for Ron to summon him, not forcing his way through as Maegcair and Lady Helkaoreiel had in him and Hermione.   
But Brilhen.  
Brilhen resisted Blaise's summons. Resisted Blaise's calls. Though it pained Blaise to find rejection from his past, the horrid emotions Brilhen sent streaming to Blaise could only mean that he still dwelt in the past. On Lady Vethule. While he, Helkaoreiel and Culram lie dormant, without thought, without life, waiting for their Holders, had Brilhen been awake? Had he fought to breathe in the airless trap he was subjected to? That they all were subjected to? Had he found thought whereas they were peacefully awaiting the time that they were to wake? And through this torment of remembrance, had Brilhen's sole focus been the image of the ravaged Lady Vethule gazing eyelessly over the lands they had once cultivated, had called their home?  
And Brilhen would not awaken in this life. He knew his time had come. After centuries of memories to drive him to insanity, for him to live though he craved the blissful endless sleep, he would not subject his sire, Blaise, to the torments that coursed through his mind. He would lie dormant until Blaise fell to his destiny, bringing Brilhen's sorrow filled life to the end he so dearly craved.  
"Am I intruding on a private seminar and leave, or shall I continue into the room and intern the conversation?" Hermione stood in the doorway, droplets of lake water falling from her clothes, a heavy thud created in the silence cast about the room.  
"We were concluding our discussion, if you must know, Hermione," Ron said, standing from the couch. "Is Harry all right, or should we be more worried about our friend?"  
"Harry is...feeling emotions one would normally wish not to experience." Walking to her friend's side, Hermione stood amidst the circle of Hogwarts students she would never had expected to feel love for. "All we can do is show him that we are him. Harry was created from our love and power. And it is all we can do to hope that when the time comes, he remembers such ties."  
  
TALMUD OF JMMANUEL  
  
"There is no eye equal to wisdom,   
No darkness equal to ignorance,   
No power equal to the power of the spirit,   
No terror equal to the poverty of consciousness."


End file.
